


Through Different Eyes

by GLEEAnna



Series: Through Different Eyes Verse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:53:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 67,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2508575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GLEEAnna/pseuds/GLEEAnna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson-Berry is in love with his big sister's best friend Kurt Hummel.  Will Kurt ever see him as more than a little kid?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sing Me Blackbird

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Klaine Prompt Big Bang 2014 on tumblr.
> 
> With warm thanks and gratitude to Chazzam for providing her valuable time, insight, and expertise as beta for this story. Your encouragement and kindness and generosity is appreciated more than words can say.

September 2012

 

“Please come to New York, Kurt!" Rachel clambered up on her frilly pink canopy bed and settled next to him with a bounce. “If not for yourself, then consider it for my sake.” She shoved an enormous bowl of popcorn into his hands, while relieving him of the remote and muting the Housewives. 

 

Silencing his protests with a raised eyebrow, she assumed her patented ‘time for a serious discussion about my problems’ expression. Kurt sighed and resigned himself to listening, even though he was in no mood for anything more than reality tv and binge eating.

 

“I’m miserable, Kurt,” Rachel explained. "I can’t even date the one cute guy who’s shown an interest in me since I moved to New York. Not until I know whether there’s a chance with Finn and me. And the other students… well, let’s just say they don’t appreciate my unique brilliance the way you’ve grown to over the years. And don’t get me started on the dining hall food,” she shuddered. “The ‘vegetarian’ menu options seem to consist of something that looks suspiciously like Kraft macaroni and cheese. Every day.”

 

“Is that what’s turning you orange?” Kurt sniped, setting the pink plastic bowl on the bed between them and grabbing at the remote as she held it just out of reach. Giving up, he slumped back against the upholstered headboard. 

 

“So in other words, I should go to New York to cook for you and pay half your rent, because you can’t get along with anybody else and college food sucks?” Kurt flapped a hand at a ruffled pillow sham that was drooping into his line of vision, and stared at the silently flickering television in the dark. 

 

Rachel lobbed a piece of popcorn at him, frowning when he didn’t dodge it or throw anything back. “No,” she murmured. “I want you there, because I need my best gay by my side as we conquer the Great White Way. I’m so lonely, Kurt. Nobody likes me at school, not even the teachers. Especially the teachers."

 

Kurt shrugged and shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “You are a bit of an acquired taste." It was hard for Kurt to work up much sympathy. He’d left everything he had on the stage at his NYADA audition, but it hadn’t been enough. Rachel had tanked her first audition, but was nonetheless enrolled in his dream school and living in his dream city. And now she was ruining their Housewives marathon, otherwise known as the highlight of his pathetic week.

 

“Ha ha, very funny,” Rachel said, shoving his shoulder. “So what do you say? Come to New York? I found us a great loft in Brooklyn. We’ll be just like Rachel Green and Monica Geller on Friends in our eclectic, artsy-yet-spacious New York apartment!” 

 

Kurt rolled his eyes, lunged for the remote and turned the TV back up. “God knows which of them you're supposed to be” he muttered. “And I really don’t want to ask which one that makes me.”

 

Rachel batted her lashes and pouted out her lower lip. Kurt listlessly picked the popcorn out of his hair before he finally answered, “I can’t move to New York, Rachel. Drop it.”

 

“I will -- if you can give me one good reason why not, Kurt Hummel.” 

 

“I’ll give you more than one.” He clicked the television off. “Because of our brilliant ‘all-or-nothing’ strategy, I didn’t apply anyplace but NYADA. So now my only option is community college. I can’t move to New York just to be your house husband and cheerleader and chief bottle-washer. I have to grow up and be realistic."

 

They sat in silence for a few moments as Rachel munched on her popcorn, a meditative look on her face. “Well, as long as you’re happy, then …?” she ventured, eyeing him.

 

“Who said I’m happy? This is the college-level version of the same Purgatory I just lived through at McKinley. I’m literally sitting next to the same troglodytes at community college, and then waiting on them at the Lima Bean."

 

“Oh, Kurt, that’s –“ 

 

At the sound of a door opening and shutting outside the room, Rachel sat up, squirrel-like, with a piece of popcorn halfway to her face. Her eyes flickered toward the door to the bathroom, which led from her room, Brady Bunch-style, to the bathroom she shared with her younger brother. A second door to 14-year-old Blaine’s room opened from the bathroom on the other side. 

 

“Did you hear that? Blaine?” The light was on under the door, but no one answered.

 

With an impatient sigh, Rachel swung her feet over the edge of the bed into her bunny slippers, and padded over to her bathroom door. She rapped loudly over the sound of running water. “Hey, Blaine. I didn’t hear you come in. How was your Freshman Mixer?” 

 

The water stopped running abruptly and the bathroom light went out under Rachel's door. Kurt heard the other door, leading out to Blaine’s room, as it opened and shut. 

 

“Blaine!” Rachel protested, rattling the doorknob. “Hey! You didn’t unlock the door to my side! C’mon back, will you --”

 

“Rachel, please. He’s obviously avoiding you. Give the kid a break,” Kurt muttered. 

 

Ignoring Kurt, Rachel continued banging until Blaine jerked open the door a crack and hissed through it. “Can you keep it down, please? I don’t want our dads to hear you and come in here!”

 

“What's wrong? Did you and Jason have a fight? Did he … did he try to take advantage?” she said in an ominious tone as Kurt rolled his eyes from the bed.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Blaine snapped. “We’re just friends, and he’s not like that. Nothing’s wrong, just let it go.” 

 

Undeterred, Rachel shouldered her way into the bathroom and flicked the light back on. She slapped her hand over her mouth in horror and gasped. 

 

Alarmed, Kurt jumped up from the bed and hurried to the entrance to the bathroom. He winced when he saw Blaine leaning against Rachel, his arms around her shoulders while she hugged him fiercely. 

 

Blaine’s formerly crisp white shirt was now ripped and bloodstained. His curly hair was wilder than ever, and one eye was blackened and swollen shut. There was a gash across his forehead. Worst of all was the look of utter defeat and humiliation. Kurt couldn’t see a trace of the bright-eyed, immaculately dressed boy who had stood, grinning, for inspection earlier that evening, full of excitement for his first high school dance. 

 

Kurt let out a sigh, not of surprise, but rather of sadness, and resignation, and aching sympathy. He didn’t even need to ask what happened. They couldn’t bear to see anyone that different, and that happy, and not try to break him. 

 

“I’m calling our dads,” Rachel murmured, stroking his back gently. “It’s going to be okay - - they’ll take care of everything, honey.” She started to turn away, but Blaine held on tighter. 

 

“No, Rach,” Blaine cried in a hoarse, shaking voice that didn’t sound like Blaine at all. “I don’t want them to know –“

 

“Know what? What happened?” Rachel asked. “Tell us what happened, and then we can decide if we have to tell our dads, okay?"

 

She took him by the arm and guided him to sit down on the edge of the tub. Working quickly, she ran a washcloth under the faucet at one of the double sinks and wrung it out. Kurt leaned in the doorway, his arms wrapped around his own chest tightly to keep his fists from clenching. He watched Rachel tilt Blaine’s chin up and begin to tenderly clean his bruised and tearstained face. Kurt felt tears prick at his eyes at Rachel’s motherly gesture. This was the reason why he loved Rachel so much. The caring, sweet side that so many people chose to ignore -- especially those threatened by her immense talent and ambition, something not tolerated in young women. 

 

“The dance sucked. Everybody was staring at us, making gross comments ...everybody. Even people who were my friends in eighth grade, at least until last month, before. ...” Blaine choked, “Before I came out. Jason wanted to call his dad to get us early, but I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.”

 

Rachel’s lips were pressed together in a grim line as she listened, while pulling bandages and ointments out of the medicine cabinet from among her numerous beauty products.   
And Kurt was shaky with rising anger and frustration. “Where the hell was Mr. Schue,” he asked tightly. “Or Figgins, or - -”

 

“Mr. Schue is in Washington. Committee on the Arts. Principal Figgins and Coach Sylvester were always busy or looking the other way. I didn’t want to go tattling to teachers. But after a while, Jason couldn’t take it anymore. We left early and went outside to wait for his dad to come pick us up.”

 

Blaine raised a blistered hand, knuckles split across the back, and rubbed his palms into his eyes, as if to stem the tears that were rising up. He breathed deeply, and went on with his story, the sound of the repressed tears in his trembling voice. “Three seniors came out from the dance. Football players. They beat the crap out of us,” Blaine burst out angrily. “Some other kids were there and saw it. They didn’t stop it or … or get a teacher, or anything!"

 

“What happened next? Oh God. Is Jason - -“

 

“Banged up, but okay. When his dad came, he said we should’ve stayed inside to wait for him, like he told us. I was so mad,” he said through gritted teeth. “I got out of the car at the next light and walked home.” 

 

“But what did the police say?” Rachel asked, searching his face. She stroked his hair softly.

 

Blaine shrugged helplessly, his voice dropping in defeat now. “We didn’t call them. Jason’s dad said if we ratted those guys out, it would only make things worse for us at school. Real men would fight their own battles.” He raised his swollen, teary eyes and looked over at Kurt. “I did fight. I started boxing classes when things started to get bad at school. But there were three of them and they were huge. We were no match for them.” He looked up at Kurt, and pleaded, “It wasn’t my fault - was it?”

 

“Of course not,” Kurt said. “None of this is your fault. None of it,” he stressed, putting a hand on Blaine’s shoulder and looking into his eyes intently. “Don’t ever think otherwise.” 

 

Blaine looked back down, his expression sick. “But it doesn’t change what happened,” he whispered. “Or what’ll keep happening.”

 

“No, it won’t,” Rachel contradicted. “We’re telling our dads. They’ll call the police and this will be dealt with properly.” She hurled the washcloth in the hamper, spinning the lid with the force of her throw.

 

Blaine reached out and grasped his sister’s wrist, shaking his head frantically. He pleaded, “I already said no! I don’t want to tell them. Please, Rachel."

 

Rachel stared incredulously at him. “But you can’t let them get away with this, Blaine!”

 

“They will get away with it, no matter what anybody does. They’re football players. One of their fathers is a cop. It’ll get swept under the carpet, like everything else they’ve done to me and all the other so-called freaks. If I tell, then everything will only get ten times worse. And our dads will make a federal case out of this if you tell them. You know that. Please don’t tell them, please," Blaine begged.

 

Seeing Rachel’s doubtful look, Blaine sighed. “Look. We've gone to the teachers, the administration. Nothing works. They. Don’t. Care.” Blaine gave a mirthless, slightly wild laugh. “II just have to accept that this is my life now. I’m gay and life is going to suck. Message received.”

 

“That’s not true! Look at our dads. It got better for them, right?” Rachel tried to reason with him. Blaine sent her a contemptuous glance.

 

“Don’t give me ‘It Gets Better'. Our dads mean well, but they don’t really get it. They didn’t come out until they were grown up. It’s different when you’re fourteen, in a small town in Ohio." He looked at his battered image in the long mirror, his face crumpling. "I don’t think I can make it to the ‘it gets better’ part. It’s so far away, it might as well be a million years from now.”

 

Genuinely frightened, Kurt stepped forward, reaching for Blaine’s arm. “Please, don’t think that,” he started, but trailed off at Blaine’s fierce look.

 

“You know that, Kurt. The last four years were hell for you with Karofsky and rest of them. And that’s what I have to look forward to for the next four years. I have no real friends left, no reason to go to school or to even stay alive, not if everybody hates me."

 

“That’s not true --”

 

“It is true. It’s not even better for you now, and you’re grown up. I saw the way those jocks and cheerleaders talked to you at the Lima Bean the other day. There’s no hope.”

 

Kurt hesitated. He couldn’t tell comforting lies, even as distraught as Blaine was. It was pointless, because Blaine was right and they all knew it. When you’re different in high school, you can hang in there and try all you want - - you might even make some inroads with your bullies, like he had with Puck and Finn. But for others, the hate was too entrenched. Blaine was going to have to put up with a certain amount of abuse from bullies, and could only expect benign apathy from the teachers. That was McKinley. That was life.

 

Rachel sighed and patted Blaine’s arm helplessly. “I won’t tell our dads tonight if you don’t want me to, but we have to talk to them about how all this is making you feel, first thing tomorrow. And we’re sleeping in your room tonight to keep an eye on you. That’s the deal, or I go to our dads this minute. This is too big, it’s scaring me.” 

 

“It scares me too,.” Blaine looked off into space, blinking, and shrugged slightly, biting his lip. “Okay,” he whispered brokenly. “I’ll tell our dads tomorrow.”

 

“I know how bad things seem tonight, Blaine, but the important thing is, you have people who love you and will listen. Rachel, or your dads. Or me, anytime. I mean it,” Kurt emphasized. “Please promise me you will if it ever feels like too much.” 

 

Blaine nodded, and Rachel helped him back up, patting his back reassuringly and leading him into his room, Kurt followed, and rummaged through Blaine’s dresser for a pair of pajama pants and a tee-shirt. While Blaine struggled into them, Kurt hurried down to the kitchen for an ice pack and a glass of water. He stopped at the empty bathroom and shook two Tylenol out of the bottle. As he went to put the bottle back, he hesitated. He removed the few medications Rachel and Blaine kept there, and hid them in Rachel's room. Better safe than sorry.

 

When he returned to Blaine’s room, Rachel was on one side of the king-sized bed the Berrys had inexplicably purchased for their rather small-sized son. Kurt went to Blaine’s other side, handing him the water and Tylenol. After Blaine obediently swallowed the tablets, Kurt took back the empty glass and gingerly applied the ice pack to the worst of the swelling.

 

“Keep that on for ten minutes, then ten minutes off, ten minutes on,” he advised. 

 

With trembling hands, Blaine held the ice pack against his face, and mumbled some thanks. “Sorry about that little outburst, Kurt. It was a rough night. I didn’t mean what I said.” 

 

Kurt hoped that was true; but Blaine's despair had been real and intense, even if fleeting. He worried that Blaine might impulsively act on those feelings someday, and self-harm or worse. But for now, he just smiled kindly and nodded. Worn out, Blaine closed his eyes and snuggled up to Kurt's side.

 

He smoothed Blaine’s tumbled, wild hair. It would take a steel spine to survive the minefield of high school as an out gay kid, with two gay dads, no less. He hoped Blaine had it in him. Kurt thought he did, and they always say adversity makes you even stronger. But frankly, he’d always thought the mysterious “they” were full of crap.

 

“Sing me something?” Blaine whispered against Kurt’s arm, keeping his eyes shut.   
Kurt looked at Rachel over Blaine’s curly head, watching her gaze fondly down at her baby brother. “Not too old for a lullaby, then?” she teased. “Well, it’s been a while. Which one of my signature renditions this time?”

 

“Not you. I’m trying to go to sleep, and all that belting you do won’t help. Kurt. Blackbird.” 

 

Shooting a smug look at an amused Rachel, Kurt hugged Blaine’s thin shoulders and softly sang to Blaine. He watched Blaine’s face relaxing as the rhythmic song progressed, and the tension and sadness melted away. Halfway through the second chorus, Kurt was struck with a sudden idea and stopped short in his song.

 

“I just had a great idea that I think would solve all of this, if you’d be willing.”

 

Blaine blinked drowsily and nodded for Kurt to go ahead.

 

“I think you should go to Dalton Academy. Hear me out. I met some of the guys there junior year, when I went to spy on their show choir. There’s a no-bullying policy there. Everybody gets treated the same no matter what. Plus, they have an outstanding show choir, their academics are strong, and they have a great acceptance rate from all the Ivy League schools. It’d be perfect for you -- nobody could bully you there for being gay.”

 

Blaine frowned. “Why didn’t you go there, then?”

 

“Actually, I considered it after visiting that day, when Dave Karofsky wouldn’t let up on me.” Kurt reached up and pulled on one of Blaine’s curls, twirling it between his fingers absently, thinking back to that dark time. “Mainly, I didn’t want my dad to know I was having trouble. He’d just had his heart attack. I didn’t want him to be stressed because of my problems. And I couldn’t ask him to pay private school tuition just then. So I just laid low, tried to avoid trouble the best I could.” He shrugged. “But I wonder now. At Dalton, I wouldn’t have had all that abuse and stress. I probably would have done better in school … been up for more extracurriculars … I dunno, maybe I could have gotten into NYADA even.” 

 

Kurt drifted into silence for a moment, and leaned his cheek against the top of Blaine’s head. He squeezed his eyes shut. After the death of his mother, junior year at McKinley had been the loneliest, scariest time of his life. His father had almost died, and then was suspended in a state between death and life for weeks. Kurt had been alone in his house at 16, fending for himself, and sick with worry and fear, not knowing if his father would ever wake up and tell him that no matter what, at least one person would always love him as he was. That had been hard enough. But Dave Karofsky had chosen that time, of all times, to devote his entire existence to tormenting him. Kurt couldn’t be sure why, but he suspected that Dave sensed his vulnerability and targeted him all the more because of it. He shook his head to clear the gloomy memories. McKinley was in the past for him, but Blaine’s problems were just beginning, unless he escaped now. “I really think that you’d be better off at Dalton than McKinley, Blaine. Think about it.”

 

Rachel pressed her hand over Kurt’s, smiling sadly and nodding. “Kurt’s right, Blaine. It would be a fresh start for you. Our dads can afford it.”

 

Blaine frowned a little. Kurt pressed him, “Do you want me to help you talk to them?” 

 

“I …I don’t know if I should. I feel like that’s letting the bullies win and giving up - and letting you and my dads down. Letting myself down, if I run away like a coward. You never did. You stuck it out.”

 

Kurt turned Blaine’s chin up and looked at him seriously. “Listen, Blaine, bottom line? You don’t have to prove anything to anybody, not me, not the LGBT community, not the jerks bullying you. You are 100 % entitled to be happy and safe. If that means going someplace else right now, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

 

Blaine gazed up thoughtfully with huge, anime-like eyes. “You really think so, Kurt?”

 

That wide eyed expression reminded Kurt of Blaine as a lost little kindergartener, clutching his big brother Cooper’s hand as they walked, dazed, into the Berrys’ home after their parents’ funeral. The Berrys had adopted both boys, and Kurt had a soft spot for Blaine ever since . That had only intensified when Blaine confided in him about being gay, before he’d told anyone else, even his own family. Kurt had to admit that it was a nice feeling, the way Blaine looked up to him and respected him. 

 

He nodded with an air of authority. “You’ve been through so much, Blaine. Losing your parents, getting used to a whole new family when you were little, and now this. Give yourself a break and go to Dalton. Join the Warblers. Feast your eyes on all those cute prep school boys,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows with a coy, teasing smile. “It’s like a Ralph Lauren ad over there.” 

 

Blaine’s expressive face showed total trust and admiration. “If you think I should, Kurt, then that’s what I’ll do.” 

 

“Great! And … I’ll tell you what? You should have a little something to look forward to right away and to make up for … well, for your first dance not going so well. Rent is playing at the Lima Community Theater tomorrow. I was going to take Rachel, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I took you instead, right?”

 

Rachel yawned and nodded. “Sure. I can hang out with Tina tomorrow, I guess. You guys have fun,” she murmured sleepily. 

 

Blaine was clearly thrilled, and breathlessly stammered his thanks, but Kurt brushed it aside. “I’d enjoy seeing it with someone who hasn’t seen it before. It’ll be like watching it through different eyes. But go to sleep now, Blaine. It’s getting late.”

 

Blaine grinned until his cut lip made him wince, then allowed a soft smile to creep back across his lips only seconds later. He dropped his head back to Kurt’s shoulder as Kurt resumed his song.

 

Kurt felt his own mood begin to lift. He could be a big brother figure to Blaine, a mentor. Someone who could be there and truly understand what he he was going through as an out gay teenager in Lima. Rachel … well, she loved Blaine dearly, but she couldn’t understand, not really. And she was going back to New York on Sunday anyway. Cooper would be even less help; the gorgeous, good hearted, but flaky young man was too flighty, too self-aborbed, and too far away in California where he was working steadily in bit parts on TV.

 

While Kurt waited for Blaine’s breathing to even out, he allowed his idle mind to drift to the thought of Cooper, the memory far less humiliating now than it used to be. For better or worse, additional humiliations had piled up and put that one-sided crush into perspective over the years. Kurt reflected that it was too bad, really, that if one of the Anderson-Berrys was going to be gay, it couldn’t have been Cooper. As it was, Cooper had the distinction of being Grand Marshal in the parade of slightly dim, painfully hot, and irredeemably straight boys that constituted his ‘type’ and included his own step-brother and their friend Sam Evans, and far too many others. 

 

He’d met a nice guy in the music store once, and had dated him because he was that rarest of combinations in Ohio: male, gay and interested. But there hadn’t really been any spark with Chandler, who was in New York now, and they had parted as just good friends. Before that, he'd tried out what passed for the gay bar scene in Lima, but he wanted romance, not anonymous sex, and nobody at Scandals had been in the market for romance whatsoever. The reality was that being gay in a homophobic high school in a small town made Kurt’s dating pool extremely limited, and as a result Kurt spent a lot of lonely days watching all his friends find “love” while he was told over and over that he mustn’t touch, mustn’t show his feelings, mustn’t be impatient. That he’d just have to wait for what everybody else took for granted.

 

He wanted better for Blaine. Hopefully Blaine would have better luck than he had finding romance, among the smorgasbord of cute freshman boys at Dalton, a few of whom Kurt had heard were gay. Everybody deserved a chance at love. Especially sweet, kind-hearted Blaine.

 

Kurt noticed that Blaine had fallen asleep against his shoulder, appearing comforted and content. He marveled at how a little hope and sympathy could make such a difference. He knew it would have made a world of difference to him when he was Blaine’s age. Or now. 

 

Rachel noticed too, and turned her sleepy eyes gratefully toward Kurt. “I appreciate you taking him to that play tomorrow, Kurt. I hate to go back to school when he’s having such a hard time. It … would take a lot off my mind if you’d keep an eye on him." She paused. "But I know it’s a lot to ask.”

 

Kurt gazed back at her in the dim light cast from the street lights outside Blaine’s window. “You don’t even need to ask. I’ll look out for him.”

 

Rachel smiled her thanks and yawned, before rolling over and drifting off to sleep. Kurt still felt restless long after the two siblings were peacefully asleep.

 

He was sure that once Blaine got out of McKinley and into Dalton, things would be okay. But once Blaine was squared away at Dalton, Kurt needed to get his own house in order. He’d put up with too much in this homophobic cow-town for far too long, and it was time to start taking real steps to break out of his own rut. Like he’d told Blaine, it got better - - but only if he made it happen. He was through waiting.

 

He slid off Blaine’s bed carefully, easing Blaine onto his side and pulling the blanket over both him and Rachel. Tiptoeing back to Rachel’s room, Kurt quietly slid his laptop out of his messenger bag. He opened it and started a Power Point to go with an internship application, scrolling through his “Looks” subfolder for the pictures of outfits that he’d meticulously catalogued for the last four years. Maybe, just maybe, he’d take his own advice, and find his own special safe place to be. Maybe, just maybe, he’d find his own ray of hope.


	2. Sebastian

October 2012

 

“It was an involuntary response, Althea –“

 

“You’re a grown man,” Kurt’s boss interrupted. “Are you telling me that it was absolutely necessary to scream, at that pitch, in front of all my customers, because you saw a mouse in the kitchen?” 

 

“That’s my natural pitch. I can reach a high F if I --”

 

Althea raised a hand. “Kurt, I like you. You know that. But you’ve been late twice this week. You spend too much time texting all your friends, looking at yourself in the backs of spoons and adjusting your beret. Not to mention reading US Weekly and discussing it for hours with the old ladies who come in here after their bingo games.”

 

“They like to talk to me,” Kurt protested. “And a lot of them order another drink while we chat. If I chased them out of here they wouldn’t do that.”

 

His boss wasn't impressed. “They don’t buy enough coffee to make it worth the space they take up on the couches all afternoon. I’m trying to run a profitable coffee shop here, not a retirement home. And now on top of that, you make a huge scene and let everybody know we have mice?” she hissed.

 

“I’m sorry?” Kurt tried, when he realized she was waiting for a response.. 

 

Althea heaved a sigh. “I would have fired anybody else by now, Kurt. This is your last warning. There are plenty of other college students who would gladly take your place. No more shenanigans. I mean it.”

 

“Yes ma’am.” Kurt had started energetically nodding halfway through Althea’s speech, and his beret now felt a bit askew. He resisted the temptation to check it in the mirror that ran along the biscotti case behind Althea’s head. “I’ll start by bussing those tables, okay, ma'am?" 

 

“Fine,” she muttered. She gave him a final stink-eye before going to restock the biscotti.

 

Kurt scampered over with his bus tub to a nearby table. Conscious of Althea’s judgmental eyes on him, he hurriedly pulled on his gloves and started clearing. He didn’t intend to be in this dead-end job any longer than necessary. If he believed in any kind of god, he would have been on his knees 24/7 praying to him, her or it, for an acceptance letter from one of the thirty-seven internship applications he’d mailed to Manhattan. But he couldn't afford a bad reference. He needed to get back on Althea’s good side, and fast.

 

As he straightened up after picking up a stray napkin from the floor, he caught a glimpse in the nearby wall mirror of a group of jacketed prep school boys coming in. He discreetly watched their reflection as he wiped down a table, careful not to be too obvious in front of his already peeved boss. _There was no rule against looking, as long as he kept working, right?_

 

He recognized a few of the boys as senior Dalton Warblers – Trent, Jeff and Nick – but others were new to him. He ran an eye up and down one in particular, his eyes lingering appreciatively. Shiny dark hair slicked back like Rudolph Valentino. A little on the shorter side, but with a trim build and a very, very nice backside. 

 

He dropped the rag into the bus tub and turned around -- just as the dreamboat glanced over. “Hey Kurt,” Blaine said, and Kurt dropped his tub to the floor with a crash.

 

He hurried to collect his wits along with the scattered cups and plates, thankful that Althea had apparently gone to the kitchen. Blaine was by his side immediately, crouching down to help him. Kurt scrubbed at the floor with the dishrag, keeping an eye on the kitchen door.

 

“I was hoping I’d see you today,” Blaine said, sunny and beaming. He deposited the last cup into the tub and helped Kurt up. “I have great news, and you’re the first person I wanted to tell. I tried out for the Warblers, and I got in! And the captain said I can probably sing lead on a song at Sectionals!”

 

“That – that’s great, great. And, you - - you look –“ He gestured vaguely up and down with his dishrag.

 

“Oh yeah. You haven’t seen my Dalton uniform yet, have you?” Blaine straightened his tie proudly.

 

“Or the hairstyle,” Kurt managed to choke out. “That’s a new look for you.”

 

Blaine ran a hand over his gleaming gelled hair, smiling at about 1,000 watts and making Kurt go strangely weak in the knees. “Well, I always hated my curly hair, and when I went on the campus tour I noticed some guys did it this way. Decided to try it myself. What do you think?”

 

“I – I – I like it. It makes you look a lot older,” Kurt stammered. _That was it. Of course. Blaine looked totally different and, like, five years older, but that was just - - he was taken by surprise, that’s all. Now that he was looking right at him, he totally could see that Blaine was still just Blaine, still just Rachel’s kid brother. Just … well yeah, he was growing up a little. No big deal. Nothing wrong with that. Really. Why was it so hot in there all of a sudden?_

 

Blaine ducked his head shyly. He opened his mouth to say something else, when another Warbler dropped an arm around his shoulders.

 

“You order yet, Killer?" 

 

Kurt surveyed the newcomer, who nodded in apparent recognition. He seemed vaguely familiar, but Kurt couldn't quite place him.

 

Nice beret, garçon,” the stranger smirked. “We’ll both have an espresso. Black. With a shot of Courvoisier.”

 

Kurt arched an eyebrow. _Is this guy for real?_

 

Blaine cleared his throat. “Sebastian, this is my good friend Kurt Hummel. Kurt, this is Sebastian Smythe. He’s the captain of the Dalton Academy Warblers. That’s something you guys have in common … show choir, that is. Kurt was in the McKinley New Directions last year, before he graduated.” 

 

Kurt remembered the face vaguely now, from last year's Regionals competition. He'd sung lead on both Warbler numbers. But … somehow he thought that wasn't the only place he remembered Sebastian from. 

 

“Yes. We beat the Warblers at Regionals, and went on to win Nationals. I’d be glad to pass along some tips if you’d like,” Kurt snarked. 

 

Kurt was mystified by his own rude words as soon as they escaped his mouth. From the way Blaine was avoiding his eyes, Kurt supposed that Blaine was embarrassed, and the thought made him miserable. Here he was, a college student, bragging about having won a high school competition, and he didn’t even understand why. 

 

Sebastian seemed to sense the awkwardness, like a shark smelling blood in the water. He followed up his advantage smoothly. “Actually, it’d be more of a help if we could just get our coffees, Kurt.”

 

Kurt saw Althea watching. “Coming right up,” he said through gritted teeth, and headed back behind the counter. 

 

He pulled an espresso for Sebastian, minus the requested alcohol, and a decaf latte for Blaine, adding in his usual three shots of peppermint syrup. Blaine had only recently started to patronize the shop, and his regular order was more dessert than coffee. As Kurt worked, he kept an eye on the Warblers’ table. His hackles rose when he saw Sebastian leaning way, way too close to Blaine. 

 

That’s when it hit him.

 

__

__

_The bored bouncer had barely looked at his atrociously bad fake ID, apparently accepting without question that his name was Darwin McHobbes and that he was forty-two years old. While his classmates attended Senior Prom, here he was, in Scandals, the only gay bar in Lima. It was pretty disappointing, actually. Tawdry and tacky and smelling of stale beer and desperation. But even so, being here with other gay men, at last, was better than the heterosexual hoedown known as the McKinley High Senior Prom. At least if he was elected for a second term as Prom Queen by his classmates, who were less than original in their cruelty and quite likely to do just that, it would be in absentia._

 

_He timidly watched the old drag queens and middle aged, overweight closet cases a while, when an enormous, hairy beefcake of a man in black leather chaps approached him and invited him to dance. Terrified, he eked out a tiny ‘no thank you, sir’ before escaping to the bathroom._

 

_He slammed the door shut and leaned against it, eyes shut and gasping for breath. It occurred to him that this might not be the smartest hiding place from unwanted attention, and he opened his eyes. And was immediately confronted by the unwelcome sight of the boy he now knew as Sebastian Smythe, with his cargo pants around his ankles, and a man in a business suit kneeling in front of him._

 

_Seeing Kurt’s dropped mouth, Sebastian laughed out loud. “Hold that pose, Princess, but wait your turn. Unless you’d like to join us.”_

 

Kurt shuddered at the memory. This guy was trouble, he thought grimly. Way too much trouble for little Blaine Anderson-Berry to hang around with, that was for sure. He put the two drinks on a tray, and headed over to the Warblers’ table. As he approached, he saw Sebastian put his arm around Blaine again, clearly coming on to Blaine like it was his job. “This bashful schoolboy thing you’ve got going on? Super hot,” he purred with a wink. You wanna come with me to Scandals tonight, sex-on-a-stick?” 

 

Blaine blushed and leaned away slightly, but didn’t push Sebastian’s arm off his shoulders entirely. “I – I don’t know. My dads would kill me if they found out I went to a bar. And how could I even get in?”

 

“I’ll take care of that, Gorgeous,” Sebastian sweet-talked him. “Just text me when everybody’s asleep. Sneak out and I’ll be waiting outside in my car with your fake ID." He picked Blaine’s iPhone up from the table and began tapping his number into it with one hand, and rubbing his shoulder with the other.

 

Blaine looked intrigued and terrified in equal measure. “I don’t know if anybody will believe I’m seven years older, even with a fake ID,” he mumbled, his hands nervously fidgeting with the sugar packets on the table.

 

“They won’t," Kurt snapped, bursting between them and slamming down the tray with a slosh. “Blaine, what are you thinking?” Blaine’s eyes goggled in guilty shock, but Kurt rounded on Sebastian before Blaine could respond. “And what the hell are you thinking, taking a 14 year old to a bar?” He demanded. “Are you insane? He’s just a kid.”

 

Sebastian just smirked dismissively, but Blaine looked deeply hurt at Kurt’s words. Softening his tone, Kurt said, “Look, I don’t mean it like that. But …” He cast around for a way to short-circuit this disaster in the making. His eyes settled on a film poster taped to a pillar above Blaine’s head. “I was hoping you’d join me instead. There’s a showing of Love Story tonight at the Lima Independent Theatre. I think you’d like it.” 

 

Blaine nodded enthusiastically. He was clearly grateful to have been rescued from that predator Sebastian, Kurt thought with approval.

 

“Great. It starts at 7, so I can drive you home to change now, if you’d like. My shift is over in five minutes.”

 

“I just need to pick up the check – it’s on me today, guys -- then I’ll meet you out front,” Blaine said, all eager smiles. 

 

“Thanks for the coffee, Blaine,” Sebastian said. “Rain check on that date, though?” He looked insolently at Kurt, as if daring him to say something. The Warblers watched the tense exchange between Sebastian and Kurt with open interest at the developing drama.

 

Blaine laughed nervously and flickered a glance toward Kurt. He mumbled something noncommittal and backed off toward the register, where a long line had formed. Kurt saw that Althea had gone in the back, probably to sign for a delivery. His co-worker Dottie looked pleadingly at him for help, but he avoided her gaze. He had to deal with this first.

 

When Blaine was out of earshot, Kurt turned to Sebastian, eyes fierce and protective. “Let’s get something straight, Smythe.”

 

“That’d be a first for either of us, but go ahead, Myrtle.”

 

“It’s Kurt –“

 

“Whatever.”

 

Kurt narrowed his eyes, and returned Sebastian’s seemingly permanent smirk. “Here’s the deal, Old Navy. I really don't care what you do with old married men in bars behind their wives’ backs. But that kid is off limits, got it? He’s fourteen years old. That makes him jailbait, and I’m serving notice right now: If you make the slightest move on him, I will tell his parents. And they will have you arrested, so fast your head will spin.”

 

Trent, the Warbler Finn had nicknamed “Sassy” last year, howled delightedly, “Oh no! He went there!” The other Warblers started registering their disapproval of this disrespect of their captain, but Sebastian flicked his eyes at them, and in an instant, they were quelled. He turned back to meet Kurt’s level stare.

 

“So you’re as much of a prude as I thought when we first met,” Sebastian taunted. “And what'll the police charge me with, exactly?”

 

“Something called statutory rape. You may have heard of it.”

 

Sebastian took a sip of espresso, frowning down at it before he set the cup back on the table and slid it away. “Actually, I have, Grandma Killjoy. My father is a State Attorney. I make it my business to know exactly what- and who - I can do, without anybody getting in trouble. And for your information, it’s not statutory rape unless one party is over eighteen and the other is under sixteen.” 

 

He stood up, looking down his nose at Kurt, and continued in an entirely conversational, snide tone of voice, “Unlike you, Betty White, I’m not quite ready for social security benefits. I won’t turn 18 for another three weeks. Plenty of time to get into Blaine’s tight little pants, and that's someplace I’m extremely motivated to be.” 

 

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Kurt shouted, and the entire Lima Bean went silent. He stood toe-to-toe with Sebastian as the Warblers stared transfixed, eyes widened over their coffee cups. He lowered his voice, and continued, “He’s too special for you use and then throw away. If I have to stick to him like a barnacle for the next three weeks, I will. I’ll make sure you don’t lay a hand on him.”

 

“I’ll settle for laying something else on him,” Sebastian laughed. 

 

Kurt shook his head in disbelief and frustration. Surely there had to be some kind of law against someone like Sebastian taking advantage of a fourteen-year-old kid, but Sebastian seemed so calm, so unworried about the law that maybe he was right about it. That meant that Sebastian could do what he wanted for the next three weeks, and then dump Blaine afterwards. 

 

Sebastian continued to calmly taunt him. “But what’s this really about, gay-face? Sour grapes? You can’t have him, so nobody else will either? Sorry, old-timer. You just missed the cutoff, but that doesn’t mean I have to back off.”

 

Kurt was running out of patience for this amoral jerk and his technicalities. Blaine was vulnerable, and shouldn’t be preyed upon by someone this much more experienced and with such bad intentions. He burst out, “You’re insane, you know that? I will make sure you don’t do anything to take advantage of Blaine, no matter what I have to do. This is so on, Meerkat.”

 

“Sounds like fun, Keebler. First point goes to you, but that’s okay. I’ll win the long game, as they say. I’ll have Blaine, at least for a few pleasant encounters, and you’ll just have your little green apron and your knitting to keep you busy.” Sebastian was so smug, so sure of himself, that Kurt wanted to punch the arrogance right out of him, and his hands clenched reflexively.

 

Blaine returned from the register, putting away his wallet. He glanced tentatively between Kurt and Sebastian. “Everything okay? Kurt, were you yelling at Sebast- -”

 

“It’s fine,” Kurt cut him off short. “Let’s go.” 

 

“Bye, Blaine. See you. I hope.” Sebastian said with a grin. He gave Blaine a final once-over from behind as Blaine leaned over to get his jacket from where he’d draped it over a chair. Kurt scowled and put an arm around Blaine’s back protectively as he guided him out the door. 

 

A few minutes later, they were driving back to Blaine’s house. Kurt tapped the steering wheel and stared ahead with a set jaw. That Sebastian Smythe was unbelievable. But attractive, and charming in a devil-may-care kind of way. Just the sort of guy to lead an impressionable young kid into a lot of trouble. When they stopped at a traffic light, he noticed Blaine peering timidly at him. Blaine swerved his head to look out the window, before they could make eye contact, and nervously fingered the power controls on the door.

 

“You seemed kind of mad back there,” he commented softly as Kurt turned onto Blaine’s street. “What about?”

 

Kurt pulled into the Berrys’ driveway and turned off the car. He turned in the seat and looked at Blaine. “Can I be frank?”

 

Blaine looked baffled, but he shrugged and nodded.

 

“This is none of my business whatsoever. But I’m going to make it my business, because I care about you, and I don’t want to see you get used and hurt.” Blaine opened his mouth, but seemed to be at a loss for words. Kurt bit his lip and forged ahead.

 

“I know this is an awkward conversation, but I really think you need to hear it. You’re special, Blaine. Please remember …”--he paused, taking a moment to channel his Dad-- “that you matter. Don’t throw yourself around with somebody like Sebastian. He just wants one thing, and doesn’t care about you or your feelings. That kind of guy is a user, a taker, and you could end up hurt.” Kurt leaned over, looking Blaine directly in the eye for emphasis. “Don’t rush into sex, please. Wait for someone who will treat you like you deserve and take care of you, even if it takes a while.”

 

Blaine’s face was scarlet, and he looked like he was about to hyperventilate by the end of Kurt's long speech. His hands were visibly shaking, but he managed a hoarse, “Okay, Kurt. I’ll … I’ll wait, then? If you … if you want me to?”

 

Kurt felt a little bad that he was embarrassing Blaine, but this was important.. He’d promised Rachel to keep an eye on Blaine, and he cared about him like a little brother. “I do,” Kurt assured him. “You won’t regret it, I promise.” Satisfied that Blaine had gotten the message, Kurt pulled off his seat belt with a click, and shoved open the door briskly. He looked back at Blaine, who was still sitting, dazed and blinking, in the car. “C’mon, let’s get going. Run in and change. We just have time for a quick bite before the movie.”

 

Blaine’s face lit up, and he nodded. He jumped out of the car and broke into a run toward the house, pausing at the door to shoot a big smile and a tiny wave at Kurt. Kurt chuckled softly and waved back as he leaned against the car. He was so relieved that Blaine was a sensible kid and was listening to his sage advice. 

 

He really was the best gay mentor ever.


	3. Lima Bean Attack

November 2012

Blaine was curled up in the window seat in the Dalton Academy common room, his forehead propped against the pane. There was a driving rain outside, and he watched dreamily as the drops pelted the window and ran down in rivulets. He admired the intense green of the wet leaves on the trees outside against the soft, pearly gray sky. Everything in the world seemed more beautiful, more alive, lately. Kurt had made all the difference. He turned the world radiant and rainbow-colored for Blaine, just by being Kurt. 

 

Blaine was madly in love, and he was fairly sure that his soulmate loved him in return. All the signs were there. Kurt had sought him out every day for nearly two weeks now, picking him up from school and often taking him out on dates to the movies or to plays. On Saturday they'd driven to Columbus for a lecture on gay rights. And even when there was nothing particular to do, when he was just allowed to hang out with Kurt and soak up his amazingness, he was happier than he ever remembered being in his life. He felt so honored that Kurt wanted to spend so much time with him.

 

Still, a persistent doubt refused to totally silence itself in his heart. The thing was, Kurt hadn't tried to kiss him or even hold his hand during all this time. He certainly hadn't asked to be boyfriends. But why would Kurt spend so much time with him, if he didn't like Blaine "that way"? Why did he act so jealous and possessive with Sebastian, and go so far out of his way to discourage Blaine from dating him? He and Kurt got along incredibly well, and had so much fun together. Maybe Kurt was waiting for a signal or a move from him? Could that be it?

 

The door opened and Sebastian slid in to the room, shutting the door behind himself with a grin when he saw Blaine. "Hey Sexy," he murmured. 

 

Blaine returned his grin. Sebastian was so funny, always teasing him like that. "Hi, Sebastian."

 

Sebastian ambled over, hands in his pockets and a cocky grin on his face. Blaine wished he had that much self-confidence. Sebastian sure knew how to get a guy’s attention, and he often regaled the Warblers with tales of his many conquests. Blaine imagined Seb could get pretty much any gay or bi man he went after.

 

Of course, Blaine wasn't into all that player stuff. He was interested in just one special connection - with Kurt. But Sebastian must have some secrets to his success with men. Maybe he'd be willing to pass some of that on, seeing as how they'd gotten to be good friends, eating lunch together every day and texting and instant messaging quite a lot. It couldn't hurt to ask a pro like Sebastian for some advice on how to make his big move.

 

"What are you doing, hiding that pretty face away in here?" Sebastian asked, still smiling. 

 

"Well, there's a few minutes before Warbler practice. I was taking some time to think."

 

"Looked more like daydreaming," Sebastian observed. 

 

"Maybe. Listen, I need some advice and you're just the guy to ask."

 

Sebastian raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Sure thing, Killer. What's on your mind?" Blaine scooted over and nodded for Sebastian to have a seat next to him.

 

He fiddled with his fingers for a moment, blushing. He hadn't said the words out loud yet, not to anybody. Unable to meet Sebastian’s eye, he finally whispered: "I have a secret. I'm in love."

 

Sebastian nodded, looking intrigued. "Go on."

 

"It's somebody I've been spending a lot of time with lately, and I'd like to let him know that I’m ready to... take it to the next level in our relationship." He looked out the window wistfully. "The thing is, he's a few years older than me, and I'm not sure he's looking for a relationship. Especially with me. I'd like to show him how I feel, but I'm afraid it might ruin our friendship if he isn't looking for something serious."

 

Blaine sneaked a sidelong look, and was encouraged that Sebastian didn't look sarcastic or amused. He was listening intently, with a soft, kind look on his face that Blaine hadn't seen before. "Would it be too much if I told this guy how I feel by serenading him? Would you like that, or would you think it was weird and over-the-top?"

 

Sebastian gave his shoulder an encouraging nudge. "I think any guy would love it, Blaine. And I think you should go for it, the sooner the better."

 

Blaine blew out a breath of relief. "I'm so glad you think it's a good idea! I thought I might ask you and the Warblers to back me up musically. At the Lima Bean. Would that be okay?"

 

"Well, it's not customary. But ... as team captain, I officially approve," Sebastian smiled, pressing Blaine's hand. "I'll get the guys to go for it. Trust me."

 

They smiled at each other companionably for a moment before the other Warblers started filing in.

 

Sebastian let go of Blaine’s hand and whispered, curious, "But why the Lima Bean?"

 

"Because the guy I like works there,” Blaine whispered back. You met him that one time there, remember? Kurt Hummel?"

 

There was something off about Sebastian’s face for a moment, but then it settled into a cool, casual look. “Ah, yes. Kurt. Interesting.”

 

“You think he’s out of my league, don’t you?” Blaine asked, deflated at Sebastian’s reaction. “I know he is, but I really, really like him, Seb. If anybody can give me advice about how to impress him, it’s you. You know all about how to win the guys over, right?”

 

“Not everything, apparently.” Sebastian shook his head. “So you’ve got Feelings, then, young gay Jedi? And you want to know where you stand once and for all with Hummel?”

 

“Yes, exactly.”

 

The grandfather clock struck four o’clock, Warbler meeting time. Blaine gave a last pleading look, and Sebastian finally assented. "I agreed to help and I'm a man of my word. Let’s ask the guys if they’ll do it. What song do you have in mind?”

 

“You know the Robin Thicke song, ‘When I Get You Alone’?”

 

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “That’s … a big song, Blaine.”

 

Blaine sagged in his seat, discouraged again. “You think it’s too much, don’t you? Maybe it’s too raunchy for - -”

 

Sebastian cut him off. “Not at all! This is a go-big-or-go-home moment! It's absolutely the perfect choice. He’ll be sure to get the message, with no room for misinterpretation … and any gay guy would love to have a hot guy like you sing him that song, in front of as many people as possible. I’m sure he’ll be totally flattered and eating out of your hand … or whatever else you want him to do to you … before you know it.”

 

“Really? Gee, thanks, Sebastian. You’re a pal.”

 

Sebastian's smile seemed a little strained, suddenly. “Don’t mention it … pal,” he said. “Let’s start this meeting so we can get you two on the road to becoming Mr. and Mr. Kurt Hummel.”

~ * ~

This was it. The big day had finally arrived, and Blaine had attended to every detail. He had worked for hours on the acapella arrangement for the Robin Thicke song, taking care to perfect all eight parts of harmony for the Warblers. He made decoy plans with Kurt for after his shift. As far as Kurt knew, Blaine would be meeting him so that they could go shopping for sheet music for Blaine’s audition for a solo at Sectionals. And thanks to Sebastian, The Warblers were totally on board with Blaine’s plan, and had devoted an entire practice session to learning the lyrics and choreography, with the common room furniture carefully rearranged to replicate the Lima Bean’s floor plan. It had taken some convincing, but Sebastian had spoken eloquently about how it would build their sense of brotherhood and camaraderie to help Blaine, and sharpen them as competitors to move outside their comfort zone and perform publicly. Everything was in readiness.

 

So why was he so sick with nerves? 

 

Sebastian was a great cheerleader, encouraging him at the last moment when he almost bailed on the whole spectacle, and Blaine reflected that he was lucky to have such a selfless friend. He made a mental note to get Sebastian something awesome for his eighteenth birthday next week, to thank him for all his support. 

 

But so much rode on this performance. If Kurt rejected him, it could get awkward for them as friends, and was the last thing Blaine wanted. But Sebastian kept telling him to man up and take his shot, and he was right. It was show time.

 

Blaine stood next to Sebastian and gazed longingly across the Lima Bean. Kurt looked amazing, as always, so slender and poised, yet strong, and so cute in his little green apron ringing up customers at the register. Please like me back. Please.

 

“Let’s do this, Killer,” Sebastian said, stepping forward and conducting the boys in the opening ‘dum dum dum dum’s. Before Blaine knew it, his instincts as a performer took over.

 

The song went brilliantly. Blaine was in top form, and throwing himself into the performance and committed himself completely. He twirled around the cafe, leapt onto tables, and and emoted with everything he had. Even the Lima Bean patrons danced along and seemed to love it. But beneath his show-smile, Blaine was perturbed at Kurt’s reaction. 

Kurt looked stunned and not necessarily in a good way, and he was shooting anxious looks at his boss. Blaine dimly registered, even as he pushed through the second verse and into the final chorus, that Miss Althea was standing with arms crossed and an angry expression on her face. Even though he was increasingly aware that things were going very, very wrong, the performer in Blaine couldn’t resist the big finish. He vaulted from the table where he’d been singing and dancing surrounded by the crowd of Warblers, dropped into a running slide, and twirled back up to stand at the register, holding up a bag of biscotti and grinning desperately and hopefully at Kurt.

 

The crowd burst into applause around them. But the moment stretched into something like torture between himself and Kurt, who was leaning on the counter, his eyes squeezed shut in obvious embarrassment. Blaine felt tears threatening to rise up, but he swallowed hard and tried to say something, anything, but Kurt’s boss was already there, silencing him before he could even begin. “Get out,” she hissed.

 

“Ma’am - - I - -“

 

“Get out. You’re banned, and so are the rest of you,” Miss Althea said, her eyes flashing at the Warblers, who stood abashed like a pack of naughty puppies expecting a swat on the nose with a newspaper. “I won’t have this in my shop – dancing and climbing all over the tables, acting like lunatics –“

 

“Althea, wait,” Kurt said, placatingly. “He didn’t mean to cause a disturbance, he’s a good kid –“

 

“And I’ll talk to you in the back. Now,” she snapped. “Give me your apron.”

 

Blaine looked back and forth. “But ma’am – the customers – they liked it,” he pleaded. “Everybody applauded— and Kurt, it’s not his fault. He had no idea I was going to do this.”

 

“I told you twice to get out, young man. Don’t make me have to call the police.”

 

Sebastian came forward and patted Blaine on the shoulder. “C’mon, Killer. Let’s go.” Blaine glanced at Kurt, who sighed with a slight smile as he tugged at his apron strings, and tilted his head toward the door.

 

“Wait for me outside, okay?” Kurt murmured. He slipped the apron off over his head and turned to follow his irate boss into the back. Sebastian pulled at his arm again and Blaine, chastened and humiliated, allowed himself be led toward the door.

 

All the Warblers filed out sheepishly. The sympathetic customers applauded and patted them on the shoulders on the way out, but that was no comfort now. Blaine couldn’t understand why Miss Althea was so angry. Or why she was going to yell at Kurt and why she had taken his apron. Everything was ruined; something that was supposed to be sexy and romantic was turning into a nightmare. 

 

The only silver lining was Sebastian, who was being a great, supportive friend as always. He dismissed the rest of the Warblers while leading Blaine to a bench outside the coffee shop. “I’d better stick around,” Sebastian said, deep concern written all over his face. “I’m really, really sorry it didn’t go like we planned, buddy … I can’t figure why, but I think Kurt is pretty pissed off. I’ve got my car here if you want to just take off.”

 

“I can’t do that! Kurt asked me to wait, and the least I can do is apologize. Maybe if I talked to his manager I could make things okay again. Do you really think he was angry at me?”

 

“Well, I don’t know for sure, but it kind of looked like it. I mean, I’d think he would be flattered, but he seemed really mad,” Sebastian said, shifting a little closer and patting Blaine’s knee. “I’ll just stay here until he’s said his piece, in case you need a ride home or a shoulder to cry on afterwards.”

 

Blaine was thanking Sebastian when Kurt came out of the Lima Bean, looking around and catching sight of them. Blaine jumped up from the bench and approached him.

 

“Kurt,” he said, but that was all his overwhelmed brain could come up with. He was relieved and pained at the same time to see a kind, gentle look on Kurt’s face. It meant that Kurt wasn’t really mad, but it was obvious that he was preparing to let Blaine down easy. .

 

Kurt’s face was a mixture of concern and confusion. “Blaine, what were you thinking? Putting on a big show like that where I work? Stepping on tables where people are trying to eat? What even was that?”

 

“Did you get into a lot of trouble?” Blaine faltered.

 

“I got fired, actually.”

 

Blaine gaped at him and started stammering an apology, but Kurt waved it off. “I was on thin ice there already, you were just the final straw,” he admitted. “Blaine -- you were amazing. The customers loved it, and under other circumstances … well … I’d be very flattered, but you have to realize - -”

 

Kurt broke off and looked over Blaine’s shoulder at Sebastian lingering in the background. “Why are you hanging around like a vulture staring at us? Don’t you have something else to do? Is grindr down for maintenance or something? This is a private conversation.”

 

“I’m here to support Blaine as a friend. And I drove us here, so I’m staying to give him a ride home.”

 

Kurt’s eyes narrowed at Sebastian.“Yeah, well, there’s no need, Timon. I can take him home. C’mon, Blaine.” He took Blaine by the arm and clicked his car key toward his nearby Lincoln. “Let’s go.”

 

Blaine looked back miserably at Sebastian, who mouthed, “call me later.” Blaine nodded and climbed into the passenger seat of Kurt’s car. They drove in silence for the short trip to Blaine’s house. 

 

Once there, Blaine walked toward the house beside Kurt, feeling like it was the Green Mile instead of his dads’ neatly landscaped lawn. His heart was leaden and heavy with dread.

 

Once inside the house, he automatically opened the door to the kitchen and drew up abruptly. Rachel was in there, taking a sheet of oatmeal cookies out of the oven, while watching Les Miserables on the kitchen TV and humming along. Blaine winced; in all the lead-up to the Lima Bean Attack, he had forgotten his sister would be home for the weekend. He started to back up, but it was too late. She saw Blaine and Kurt and smiled her brightest smile. 

 

“Hey guys,” she chirped. “Grab a glass of milk and dig in. Just let ‘em cool for a couple minutes first, okay?” 

 

“Rachel, can we have a few minutes in here, please?” Kurt asked, sitting down at the kitchen island. “Blaine and I were having an important conversation about … well, a gay thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

 

"Hey. I have two gay dads, a gay brother, and a gay best friend. I may not be gay myself, but –“

 

“Trust me, Rachel, this isn’t something you’d understand. Please.”

 

Rachel shrugged, and threw her dishtowel on the counter. She scraped three cookies onto a plate and flounced off, tossing a “Fine” along with her hair over her shoulder. They heard her feet patter up the stairs and the door to her room slam.

 

Blaine sat opposite Kurt at the kitchen island. Naturally, Rachel’s movie had to be at “On My Own”. Perfect. “All my life, I’ve only been pretending/ Without me, his world will go on turning - -” Eponine sobbed. Blaine reached up and silenced her heartbreaking voice with a sharp click of the power button. I feel you, Eponine, he thought drearily. When he’d fallen in love with Kurt, he had noticed that all the songs about finding your true love finally made sense, and seemed to be written specifically about how Kurt made him feel. He had finally learned what they all meant, from loving Kurt. And he supposed his education was complete, because now he truly understood the sad ones, too. This was what it meant to have a broken heart, and even that hackneyed term made all the sense in the world now. It really felt like shards of his heart were piercing his soul. 

 

They sat in silence for a second more. “Thanks for not saying what happened,” he finally murmured. “To my sister.”

 

“Unfortunately she’ll probably hear about it at some point,” Kurt said, reluctantly. “You were really great, Blaine, from a performance standpoint - - and, well, some of the customers taped you on their phones. It’s probably on Youtube by now.”

 

“Great.”

 

Kurt reached and took a cookie on a napkin, turning it around in front of him idly. “Blaine, what were you trying to accomplish exactly? What did you expect would happen?”

 

Kurt looked up and Blaine met his gaze steadily. “I just… was trying to let you know. That I love you.” Sometimes the truth just barreled out of Blaine uncontrollably, and what was the point of being coy now, really? 

 

“I see.” Kurt pushed the uneaten cookie away and reached across the counter to take Blaine’s hand, sending Blaine’s heart into his throat for a brief moment of wild hope. Even now, he wanted so much for Kurt to love him back that he could almost believe it might happen. But Kurt's next words sent his fluttering heart into his stomach. 

 

“Blaine, honey. You have to know that nothing can happen between us.”

 

Blaine sat there, feeling like he was frozen solid and motionless at the bottom of the ocean, while Kurt talked kindly at him in the flute-like, musical voice that Blaine loved so very much. He caught words here and there: “Not even legal.” “Like a brother.” And the last and worst, “You’ll forget this in time.” Blaine jerked his hand away like it was burned.

 

“No, I won’t. And don’t talk about this like it’s some stupid kid’s crush. It’s not. It’s real.”

 

Kurt looked at him with pity, and Blaine felt a brief rush of irrational anger that Kurt was belittling his feelings. He might be only fourteen, but he knew his love was just as real and intense as anyone older might feel, maybe even more, and not even Kurt had the right to diminish it. But that brief resentment swiftly melted away to nothing as Kurt continued. Kurt was so kind, so compassionate and wonderful and patient. So impossibly out of reach. He kept making Blaine love him even more all the time, even when it felt like Kurt was pulling Blaine’s heart out of his chest and handing it back, bleeding and broken and rejected, with a polite and considerate no thank you.

 

Kurt continued, his voice understanding. “I can tell you from experience that as real as your feelings may seem, time will fade them. I’ve been exactly where you are, many times, thinking I was in love with someone who didn’t feel the same way. I know it hurts like hell. But … with every one of those guys, I got over it, and we stayed friends.”

 

Blaine frowned. He knew his own feelings for Kurt wouldn’t fade; that was just crap and nonsense. What struck him, though, was that someone had turned Kurt down? It didn’t seem possible. “Who –“

 

Kurt opened his mouth to answer, but then seemed to change his mind. He just shook his head. “I’d rather not get into that, if you don’t mind … but the first time, it was someone a lot older. Just like you and me. And they were all straight,” he admitted, shamefaced.

 

Well. That explained it. Blaine was thoroughly convinced that Kurt could have anyone he wanted if they were gay. 

 

And he didn’t want Blaine. 

 

“I hope you and I can stay friends,” Kurt said, squeezing Blaine’s wrist softly. “It would break my heart if we didn’t.”

 

“Join the club. My heart’s broken too," he choked, trying not to look at Kurt directly. 

 

An awkward, painful pause filled the room. “I see,” Kurt responded finally. “I’m sorry, Blaine. If you change your mind …”

 

Kurt stood up to leave, and Blaine shook himself, jumping down from his own stool and clutching at Kurt’s sleeve. “Wait. Wait, I’m sorry. I know this is my fault, I misunderstood, I thought we were … kind of dating. I wanted to think so, anyway,“ he admitted. “I guess I made it up in my head.” He dropped Kurt’s arm and stood helplessly in front of him, shoulders drooping.

 

“That’s probably my fault,” Kurt sighed, looking down at him with kind eyes. “I didn’t mean to mislead you, but I can see how you got the wrong idea from all the time we’ve spent together lately. I was … well, I was trying to be a good friend to Rachel and look out for you.” Seeing Blaine’s sickened expression, he hastened to add: “I like you for your own sake, of course, and I was happy to spend time with you! But only as a friend, or, like, a big brother. It would be so wrong for anything more to happen between us. You’re fourteen and I’m eighteen. Please try to understand.”

 

But Blaine didn’t understand. He knew he loved Kurt, that he belonged to and with Kurt, and he knew it in his very bones and with every beat of his broken heart. Numbers and laws meant nothing. 

 

But Kurt was being clear. There was nothing Blaine could say to change the fact that it wouldn’t happen for them; not now, probably not ever. 

 

Kurt’s face had turned sad and worried, and Blaine couldn’t bear that. And he found that he also couldn’t bear the thought that Kurt wouldn’t be in his life at least in some way. “I understand. If you can forgive me for getting you fired, I – I want to still be friends too. I promise I won’t bring this up again if it makes things weird. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t see you every day.”

 

If possible, this just made Kurt look even sadder. “About that. I meant to tell you something today. I’m re-applying to NYADA and I got an internship at Vogue.com. I’m traveling back to New York with Rachel next week.” Blaine just stared at him. 

 

“Can you try to be happy for me, Blaine?” Kurt asked gently after a moment.

 

Blaine nodded through the blinding haze of brimming tears that he’d been fighting since the Lima Bean. He felt Kurt pull him into a hug, and he clung to him unashamed, the tears raining softly onto Kurt’s shoulder. It felt so right, so perfect to finally be in Kurt’s arms, but that was no real comfort when Kurt was going away and taking every dream and hope and ray of sunshine out of Blaine’s world with him when he went.


	4. New York Changes

Before Kurt left for New York, he made easy, well-intentioned promises to stay in touch with Blaine. But he had a busy new life, and those promises became harder and harder to keep. He had an internship with a kind and interested mentor at his favorite magazine, surrounded by high-fashion glitz and celebrity glamor. He enjoyed rooming with his friends, which at its best felt like a sleepover party every night. And he took plenty of opportunities to explore the nightlife in the greatest city in the world, unfettered by adults and their well-meaning speeches. 

 

And then, his greatest triumph of all: overcoming Carmen Thibideaux’s reservations about him and making it into NYADA, where he found new friends, new dreams, and the most gifted and challenging classmates and teachers he’d ever had. 

 

Not everything was a fantasy come true, of course. He got homesick sometimes, and missed being able to see his father on a daily basis. And even though the loft was great, it was also full to bursting with roommates both expected and unexpected.. 

 

Rachel, heartsick and lonely after not hearing from Finn since he left to join the army, took solace in the arms of an overwaxed and overweening NYADA junior named Brody Weston. Kurt hadn’t minded handsome, eager-to-please Brody at first, at least not when he’d had his own apartment in Manhattan. But Rachel had impulsively invited Brody to move in with them after only a few weeks of dating. Brody had cheerfully taken her up on it, moving himself lock, stock and Bowflex into the loft. 

 

Kurt was not a morning person, and it was a challenge to endure Brody's inane opinions and penchant for casual nudity at the breakfast table every day. But before Kurt even had a chance to adjust to Brody, another roommate had descended upon them: Santana Lopez, teller of unwanted and unvarnished truths, or at least the truth as she saw it. Santana was predictably unpredictable in all that she did or said, and living with her was not entirely peaceful, to say the least. 

 

But then ... then he met Adam.

 

Adam Crawford, who was four years older, and British, and who sang him a hilariously inappropriate song by way of self-introduction, backed by his self-named show choir "Adam's Apples”. They had been dating for several weeks now. Adam was perfectly pleasant, and very nice to look at in his hipster attire and beanies. He was fun to hang out with, and he made Kurt laugh with his hilarious impressions of British television shows and movies. Kurt had a vague sense that something wasn’t quite … soulmate-ish about Adam, and that possibly what attracted him most was that Adam was so very attracted to him. There might be a true love waiting for Kurt out there, one that would make his heart race and his soul sing a little more. But sweet, uncomplicated Adam would do very nicely as Kurt’s Mr. Right-For-Now. And there was no time to think overmuch on these theories when Kurt had a fabulous New York life to live.

 

***  
.   
Rachel slipped into her seat next to Kurt at the breakfast table, as a buff, shiny-smooth Brody did push-ups in the nude nearby and Santana sneaked Kurt’s organic frozen waffles out of the toaster and began to eat them dry over the sink. “Show choir Nationals is in New York this year,” Rachel informed Kurt. “This Friday night.The Warblers are competing, and my dads are going see it, and then come to my Mid-Spring Freshman Assessment Performance on Monday.” 

 

Kurt frowned, looking up from his copy of Variety. Blaine hadn't mentioned anything about that. In fact, it had been a few weeks since he'd heard from Blaine at all, now that he thought about it. 

 

Santana spun around, spraying waffle crumbs on the floor. “Oh hells, no, Berry. There’s no more room in this apartment for your lawn gnome of a brother or the rest of your family, especially on such short notice." She shoved the last third of a waffle in her mouth and continued her rant while chewing it. “I already can’t move without tripping over your boyfriend’s abs or Princess Hummel’s beauty kit, or his boyfriend’s beanies, or your - -“

 

“Enough, Santana. The Berrys are family, and of course we’ll find room for them,” Kurt cut her off. "And buy your own waffles, will you? Those were mine."

 

Next to Kurt, Rachel shook her head. “It's okay, Kurt. My dads are staying in a hotel in Manhattan. It’ll be like a second honeymoon for them. Of course, they’ll come for dinner one night, but there’s no need for them to stay here.”

 

“So just Blaine, then?” Kurt asked. He broke off two more waffles from the package and put them in the toaster. “We can hang another curtain up, I suppose, or put him on the couch –“

 

“No, he said he was going to stay at the hotel with his team.” 

 

Kurt looked curiously at Rachel. She seemed a bit tense. "Well, that'll be okay until the competition’s over - - won’t the Warblers go home after that? Where'll he stay then?” he persisted.

 

“I guess he’ll get a room in the hotel where my dads are staying.” 

 

The waffles popped up in the toaster and before Kurt could react, Brody had them on a plate. Brody leaned his bare buttocks against the counter while wolfing down Kurt's breakfast. Kurt scowled at him and shoved past to get the box of waffles again. He extracted the last two and stuck them in the toaster, this time standing guard.

 

“That doesn’t sound like much fun. So what if it’s a little crowded here? It’s only one weekend. I’d really like to see him and catch up -- maybe even take him out to dinner and a real Broadway play. I think he’d like that.”

 

Rachel set down her juice. “Kurt... No. Just … no. It’s not a good idea."

 

"What does that mean? Why not?"

 

"Look. I know what happened with you and Blaine right before you left Ohio. I think he's over it; he's finally stopped asking about you during our chats. But I think it’s best if you don’t spend any more time alone with him than necessary. He’s a very romantic and impressionable person, very easily influenced and hurt," Rachel sighed. “It runs in the family.”

 

Kurt stared, offended. “Are you suggesting that … that I'd hurt him? I would never - - I’m his friend, Rachel! And yours!”

 

“Then I’d appreciate it if you kept your distance from my brother and let him finish getting over you. Unless you enjoy having him hero worship you, which would be kind of mean, don’t you think?”

 

Kurt ignored the waffles springing up in the toaster and went back to the table, sitting next to Rachel and looking in her eyes. “I promise you. I will never, ever encourage that child. I’d never lead him on just to feed my ego, or whatever it is you're suggesting. I just want him to know he still has a friend in me." He sighed. “Even if I haven’t been as good a friend as I could have lately. I’d like to make that up to him.”

 

Rachel considered it, and then relented. “Okay. I’ll ask him if he’d like to sleep over here after the Warblers leave. But I’m serious. You need to be clear with the boundaries. I love you, you’re my platonic soul mate, but he’s my baby brother. Understand?”

 

Kurt nodded, crossed his heart, and Rachel jumped up, satisfied. She grabbed the last two waffles on her way out. “Sorry – there’s nothing else vegetarian in the house!” she called back over his protests.

 

r03;r03;r03;r03;r03;~ ~ ~ ~

 

Blaine closed his eyes and leaned his head back. against the back seat of the car his dads had rented to get around New York City for the weekend. He was happy and tired. He'd given a great performance last night, leading his Warbler brothers to a show-stopping victory. He’d had a great time celebrating the win with them at the hotel until early this morning, and best of all, Kurt had been there at Nationals to cheer him on alongside his family. After his victory, Kurt had given him a warm, Kurt-scented hug, and--

 

No, Blaine. 

 

He had to stop before he got carried away with dumb ideas again. He had almost gotten over Kurt, or at least he almost convinced himself he had. He had accepted that Kurt was grown up, and in college hundreds of miles away, and not interested in romance with someone still in ninth grade. 

 

Blaine had tried to forget, like Kurt wanted. Really. He’d gone on a few dates and even fooled around a few times with some Dalton boys, and in one unfortunate experiment, a Crawford girl. But it hadn’t felt right, hadn’t gelled, because none of them had been ... Kurt.

 

Seriously. He needed to block this line of thought and move on. He had to remember the humiliation of the Lima Bean Attack, especially what Kurt had said about how there could never, ever be anything between them. Sebastian and the Warblers had advised him to move on after witnessing Kurt's reaction to that fiasco. Rachel had told him the same thing when she found out. His concerned dads had wormed it out of Rachel when he moped around the house for the first several days, and they had stressed that he needed to try to forget about Kurt, for his own sake, as if that were something he could just decide and do. He wished it were that simple, but he understood they all meant well. They loved him and wanted him to be okay, especially Rachel and his dads.

 

He opened his eyes and looked fondly at his dads in the front seat. They were harmonizing on his solo from the competition, in their own unique, jazzy Berry family style. He caught Hiram’s eye in the rear view mirror, and felt warmed all the way through when his dad smiled proudly at him.

 

“You were absolutely on point last night, Blainers. I have no words, other than a star is born. You’ll be the next Eddie Cantor, count on it - -“

 

“I’d say the next Gene Kelly, Hiram,” his other dad cut in, while stopping at a traffic light. “You’ve got that timeless Old Hollywood style down, and at your age! You must have gotten that from my side of the family.” 

 

Hiram nodded vigorously. He laid a hand on his husband’s shoulder. “That’s true, LeRoy. Blaine, you really are more of a Gene Kelly type, now that your dad mentions it.”

 

“You two wouldn’t be a little biased, would you?” Blaine chuckled. “I appreciate the support, but I don’t think I’m in that league. I think being the first Blaine Anderson-Berry is about all I can aspire to, not the next Gene Kelly.” 

 

Hiram turned in the seat again, pushing his glasses up on his nose and fixing Blaine with one of his intense gazes. “That’s all we ask of you, Blaine. Be true to yourself. I’m sure it’ll be more than enough to make you a huge star someday. I wholeheartedly believe in your future and your talent, and Rachel’s. More than I believe in anything. There’s nothing you two can’t do if you’re given the chance.” 

 

LeRoy added, softly, “All that’s years off, though. The important thing is last night was perfect. You made us so proud, Blaine. We love you.”

 

“I love you too, dads. Thanks for being there last night.”

 

The light turned green, and LeRoy stepped on the gas pedal. And in the next moment, Blaine’s entire world exploded in a shower of splintered glass from the windshield and the sound of grinding, crushing metal, before abruptly turning black.

 

r03;r03;r03;r03;r03;~ ~ ~ ~

 

When Blaine woke, he was in a hospital bed. His arm and head and eye hurt, and he couldn’t understand how he got there or what had happened. It hurt to turn his head toward the sound of sniffling by a too-bright window. It was Rachel. Rachel was crying, and ... Kurt was there with her.

 

Blaine tried to ask them what he was doing here, but his throat was dry and rough. At the sound of his croaking voice, Rachel turned her tear-stained face toward him ... and he knew. He knew that expression, remembered it from when Cooper had told him about their parents even though it was another lifetime ago. He’d never forgotten the terrible fear and pain that came with it. 

 

Rachel was saying words now, explaining and reassuring and he couldn’t even follow what she was trying to tell him, beyond what he’d read on her face at the first moment and knew in his heart. His wonderful fathers were dead, just like his mother and father before them. 

 

Vaguely he was aware that this time, it was even worse. At five, he hadn’t understood the finality. He hadn’t understood, somehow, despite the repeated explanations, that his mom and dad had stopped existing, that he would never, ever see them or hug them, never hear their voices again. It had taken blessed months for that reality gradually to sink in. This time, the truth and what it would mean hit him all at once. The shock and the sense of complete loss, felt, at that excruciatingly painful moment, beyond his ability to survive. It was a mercy that the dizzying fog overtook him again, allowing him to fall back into the peaceful darkness of slumber.

 

r03;r03;r03;r03;r03;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Kurt picked a few small items, some fruit and bread, from among the vast quantity of food the well-wishers had brought to the Berrys’ house for shiva. Rachel and Blaine had refused to eat much when other friends and family had offered, but he thought maybe they would take a little something from him. He glanced over at the pair. They were sitting close together on the gray, mid-century-style couch beneath a draped mirror. Blaine’s arm was in a cast, but Rachel was holding his other hand. They were wearing black, each with a length of torn black ribbon the rabbi had given them at the funeral pinned to their clothes, representing the traditional rending of garments. Their already similar faces looked more alike than ever in grief.

 

Thankfully, most of the visitors had gone home. The only guests left were close family: Hiram’s elderly mother, Rachel’s Grandma Berry, was seated in an armchair next to Rachel, and Cooper sprawled in the loveseat beside the couch, near Blaine. Kurt could see how exhausted his friends were after the week-long mourning period, especially Blaine, who was still recovering from surgery on his arm and eye. He approached and set the plates down on the glass coffee table in front of them, fussing with silverware and napkins, and then moving around to Rachel’s other side to take her free hand. “Can I get you anything else?” 

 

“I can’t eat,” she whispered. Next to her, Blaine swayed in his seat and his black-yarmulked head drooped onto Rachel’s shoulder. His right eye was patched from the eye surgery to remove small pieces of glass that had pierced it in the accident, but the left eye closed sleepily. Rachel patted Blaine's hand in hers. “I think Blaine needs his rest now.”

 

Kurt nodded. Rachel said, softly so as not to wake Blaine, “So we’ll need to get back to New York pretty soon … I’ll finish getting Blaine’s things packed for you tomorrow, okay, Bubbe?”

 

Rachel’s grandmother looked up, startled. 

 

“What do you mean, Rachelah?”

 

“Well, I – I assumed Blaine would go to live with you. Isn’t that what my dads’ wills said?"

 

Mrs. Berry set down her teacup on the coffee table. She looked warily at a now-sleeping Blaine. “My Hiram made his will a long time ago, sweetheart. Right after you were born. He never updated it when he and LeRoy adopted Blaine and Cooper. He meant that I would take care of you, not –“ she trailed off awkwardly.

 

Rachel looked stonily at her grandmother. 

 

“You mean, you would take care of me, because I’m your blood granddaughter. But not Blaine, because he’s only your adopted grandson.” Her hand tightened over Blaine's, and Kurt saw the hurt and disappointment in her eyes as she stared her grandmother down.

 

“I - - no, it’s – it’s not that,” Mrs. Berry protested, a little weakly. “Not really. I’m so much older now, too. I don’t have the energy to take care of a teenage boy. Of course I love Blaine, but I – I can’t do it, Rachel. I’m sorry.”

 

Rachel pressed her lips together, nodding slowly. “Well, if it’s too much for you, Bubbe, then … Cooper, I guess Blaine’ll go with you?"

 

Startled, Cooper choked on the cruller he had just shoved in his mouth. “Me?” He protested, after swallowing. “But - - I’m all the way in California, and – well, I’m out all hours either auditioning or working. I’m not equipped for a kid. I mean, for a few weeks, but –“

 

“Never mind, Coop,” Blaine said, not opening his good eye or moving from Rachel’s shoulder. Kurt felt a pang of concern over how pale and tired Blaine's face was. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience to anybody. I’ll just board at Dalton.” 

 

“There you go,” Cooper said, relieved. “Then when summer rolls around, you can come visit for a few weeks, how ‘bout that, Squirt? Maybe I’ll take you on some shoots so you can see the big C-note in action, that sound good?” 

 

“Sure, Coop,” Blaine said listlessly, his eye still shut.

 

Rachel's gaze met Kurt's, pleading, and Kurt nodded at the silent question she asked. She smiled tearfully in thanks, and then turned to Cooper. “No. That’s not good enough; Blaine needs to be with family now. Blaine, you’re coming to New York with Kurt and me.”

 

Blaine sat up, looking groggy. His hand went up to the injured eye and Rachel pulled it down. “Don’t rub your eye,” she reminded him. Turning to her grandmother, she said, “Bubbe, I’ll just need you to go to the lawyer’s office with me tomorrow morning, to figure out the paperwork to make me Blaine’s legal guardian. Then I’ll need to find a private high school in New York he can transfer to, and - -”

 

“Hold on. I don’t need a guardian,” Blaine mumbled. “I’m almost fifteen. I can stay at Dalton, that’s where all my friends are, and I don’t want to transfer again. I’ll be fine. And there’s no room for me at the loft, anyway."

 

“We’ll make room,” Rachel declared. “You need a guardian and you need to be with family at a time like this, not in a dorm room hundreds of miles away. It’s settled. No arguments, Blaine.”

 

Blaine shrugged slightly, and put his head back down on her shoulder. “Okay, Rae,” he whispered sadly. “I guess if that’s what you think I should do.”


	5. New Home

September 2013

“So here it is. Kurt picked the furniture for you. If you don’t like it, we can get you something else.” Rachel held the curtain back and Blaine surveyed his new, curtain-walled room in his sister's Bushwick loft. There was a bedframe and mattress set, a nightstand, a narrow dresser, and a rolling clothes rack. That was it. Not even a desk. His room at home was three times this size. Actually, just the bathroom he’d shared with Rachel, until she moved to New York, was bigger.

“Those are your new uniforms.” Rachel pointed at the clothes rack, stocked with private school uniform components – blazers, dress shirts and pants, pullover sweaters and even sweatshirts and sweatpants with "NYADA-Prep" printed over the school's comedy/tragedy mask logo.

“Hm. Red blazers with blue piping,” he observed. “Bizarro-Dalton, I guess.” He plugged his laptop in and set it on the night stand. “Thanks for getting all that for me, Rae. It was a lot of trouble to go to.”

“Don’t be silly! I was glad to take care of it for you. Need any help unpacking?”

“Not really. I don’t have a lot … I gave away my Dalton uniforms to Nick, since they were practically like new and he’s on a scholarship and needs to save money. And he’s my size, so he can get some use out of them this year. I left most of my other stuff at the house for now, rather than drag it all to Cooper’s for the summer and then here. I’ll get some of it next time we go home to visit.” He swung his suitcase onto the bed and opened it. His signature bright designer polo shirts were folded neatly in rows, as his dads had taught him. He reached for a hanger and started transferring them to the rack one by one, carefully arranging them in rainbow order. 

“How was that, ‘hanging with Mr. Cooper’ for the last few months?”

“Well, you know Cooper. He was pretty busy. He went on a lot of auditions, and he had a new creditscore.com spot he was working on. It was fun when he was around.” He pulled out the folder where he kept his NYADA Prep information and glanced through it before setting it in a tray on top of the dresser with a frustrated sigh. “I’m not sure about going to NYADA Prep, to be honest. It’s all the way in Manhattan. That’ll take me forty-five minutes each way on public transit. Maybe I should just go to public school here in Brooklyn.”

 

"Blaine, I already looked into all the options. I checked out the local public high school, and it’s out of the question. Trust me. NYADA Prep is best for you. It’s a great performing arts high school, which is what our dads would want for you. Plus it’s right near my campus, so we can go in together most days.” Rachel opened the bottom drawer and put in a stack of pajamas. 

He quietly retrieved the pajamas from the bottom drawer and put them in the second-to-top drawer, where he had kept them at home. He didn’t want to argue about school with Rachel, who was trying so hard for him. Maybe she was right and this would turn out to be good for him. He loved performing and NYADA Prep was supposed to be great for that. Maybe he could even do some auditioning here now that his face and arm were fully healed and he was feeling a little stronger emotionally than he had when … when it first happened. NYADA Prep allowed its students to take time for auditions and performances. Yes, he supposed Rachel knew best.

He took out a flat bubble-wrapped parcel, and pulled at the tape, uncovering a picture of Hiram and LeRoy singing together at the family piano back in Ohio. “I took this one last Channukah,” he said, holding it up for Rachel.

Rachel smiled softly, and nodded toward the small stretch of wall over the dresser. “There’s a hook there. I had a picture of Finn and me up, when this was part of my room. Well, before I started seeing Brody, of course.”

He hung the picture of his dads carefully, and unwrapped a second, much older photo taken of his biological parents, Cooper and himself at JC Penney's a decade ago. He placed it on the dresser under his dads' picture. “I’m sorry I’m disrupting the setup here,” he said softly. “It was crowded enough before, I’m sure, and now it’s even worse.” 

Rachel came to stand next to him, slipping her arm around his waist. They stood looking at the picture of their dads together, remembering. “Don’t worry. We just took a couple feet off each of our rooms to make space for you. Nobody minded. I’m really glad you’re here, Blaine. Family is important. And you and Cooper and Kurt are all the family I have left.”

 

“And Grandma Berry,” Blaine reminded her.

 

Rachel’s face stiffened. “Not anymore. Not after what she said at our dads’ shiva.”

 

“Oh, Rachel, don’t hold a grudge over that. I don’t expect her to want to take care of me. It’s a lot to expect when I’m not really her grandson.”

 

She shook her head vehemently. “Yes, you are! You’re Daddy’s son, and my brother.” Rachel’s words erupted from her amidst surprisingly violent tears. “She’s spitting on Daddy’s grave by not being there for his son, and she hurt you. I will never forgive her for that. Never.”

 

Pulling at her waist gently, Blaine tried to reason with her. “But Rachel, don’t forget, she lost her son and is grieving too. You’re her only other relative. Please ... don’t be angry at her because of me. We're going to make it, we're all going to be okay.” 

 

He offered her a handkerchief and waited for her to dry her eyes. Hesitating, he ventured, "Rachel... Do you think you might want to go for some grief counseling? The grief counselor Coop and I went to in LA helped a lot, and maybe the one you got for me here could see you too."

 

Rachel took his shoes out of the side pocket of his suitcase and knelt down to put them under the bed. “I’m just ... too busy."

 

Blaine studied his sister as she went to the clothes rack and started spacing the shirts out evenly on their hangers. "Maybe you're keeping busy to avoid processing your feelings, but you have to do that emotional work sometime."

 

Rachel looked over her shoulder and gave a little smile. "Did your old counselor tell you that?" He nodded, and Rachel sighed, "Blainey, I process my emotions my own way. In my art." She shut and zipped up the empty suitcase and stowed it under the bed, while he finished arranging things tidily in his dresser. Blaine knew well enough that pressing the issue was pointless, so he dropped the topic for now. 

 

“By the way … Thank you for everything you’re doing for me, I appreciate it. I know it hasn’t been easy …” he ventured, changing tack.

“It’s okay. I’d do anything for you, Blainey-bear. Anything to protect you and make sure you’re taken care of. I owe that to our dads.”

“Just take care of yourself too, please? I worry about you.”

She wiped her eyes a final time and squared her small shoulders. “Don’t. Like you said, we’re going to make it. We’ll make it work.”

~ * ~

 

October 2013

Kurt opened the door to the nurse’s office at NYADA Prep and looked in. There were a number of students sitting or lying down in the office, taking up every bed, chair, and even sitting on the floor. He spotted Blaine slumped in a chair near the window.

“Hey, Blaine,” Kurt said, shutting the door. “What’s going on, buddy? You look pretty green around the gills.”

The school nurse answered, “We had a problem with a batch of chicken salad in the cafeteria. Food poisoning. Are you Blaine’s brother?”

“No,” Blaine said quickly. “What are you doing here, Kurt?”

“Well, I’m your secondary emergency contact. Your sister got a callback from the Funny Girl producers after you left for school this morning. You know Fanny is her dream role. She must’ve turned her phone off for the afternoon so she wouldn’t be distracted.”

One of the other students stood up and barreled past Kurt toward the open bathroom door. It slammed shut and some alarming sounds emanated out.

“Are you here to pick him up? We’ve got our hands full,” the nurse asked hopefully. “Oh no.” She grabbed a basin and shoved it under a teenage boy’s face, just in time. But Kurt saw that a chain reaction was about to take place among the other patients. 

 

"Watch him for fever, keep him hydrated, and go to the ER if the diarrhea or vomiting lasts more than twelve hours," The nurse told him over her shoulder.

“Do you need my ID?”

The nurse spared it a hurried glance. “That’s fine, Mr. Hummel. Just sign on that clipboard over there and take him home. Sips of fluid, soda crackers if he tolerates that - - whoa, Jonathan, use the wastebasket - -“

Kurt signed the sheet and took some paper bags from the stack on the nurse's desk. “Ready, Blaine?”

Blaine's lips were pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. He nodded and felt on the chair next to him for his messenger bag. Kurt grabbed it and slung it over his own book bag. “Here, you take these barf bags, and I’ll carry this for you.” 

 

He took Blaine’s arm and supported him out the door. “We’ll get you home and into bed. Try to take slow, deep breaths, okay?”

“Thanks, Kurt,” Blaine whispered, leaning slightly on Kurt’s arm. "It was getting pretty gruesome in there. Like Bridesmaids, only not funny this time."

“Yeah, I noticed. But you'll be home soon, and then you can rest."

 

"Rest in peace, is more like it. I think I'm dying."

 

"I doubt that," Kurt chuckled, patting his shoulder. "C'mon, dead man walking."

Kurt was debating whether to hail a cab or risk taking Blaine on a subway as they stepped out of the building together, when he saw Adam hurrying down the sidewalk toward them.

 

Adam greeted him with a sweet smile. “Hey, Kurt, I thought we were meeting on campus. What are you doing - - oh. Hello, Blaine.”

“Hi,” Blaine whispered back weakly. He had the barf bag open and ready, in shaking hands. 

“Adam -- I was about to call you. I just got a call from Blaine’s school nurse - - well, you can see he’s really sick. I’m going to have to cancel our plans and get him home.”

“Oh … well. I’m sorry you’re ill, Blaine – Could one of your other friends or your sister take you home, possibly?”

“I - - I don’t know,” Blaine whispered, going even paler and sweatier. 

 

"Rachel got a callback, and half of NYADA Prep was re enacting The Exorcist back there," Kurt answered. "Blaine needs me."

Adam took Kurt’s hand appealingly. “I hate to be a jerk, but I’ve had these tickets for weeks,” Adam coaxed. “Can’t you see Blaine home, and then come back into the City? We might still make the play if we skip the sushi.”

Blaine’s face turned completely ashen at the word ‘sushi’. A moment later he had thrown up - - overflowing the small bag onto the sidewalk, splashing Adam’s hipster shoes. 

 

“I’m - - I’m so sorry,” Blaine gasped, still gripping his paper bag. Adam set his face grimly, teeth gritted in obvious irritation. Kurt threw him a disappointed glance.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kurt soothed Blaine while guiding him toward a trash can. “You couldn’t help it. Just . . . put that in there.” Blaine let the soaked bag drop into the can, half a second before he heaved violently yet again. 

A moment later, he looked up, his face beaded with sweat, hands tightly clutching the edges of the garbage can. He looked miserably at Kurt. “I’m so embarrassed, your boyfriend’s shoes - -“

Kurt ripped open a packet of antibacterial wipes from his messenger bag. “Blaine. It’s okay. He understands it was an accident. Right, Adam?” 

Kurt pried Blaine’s hands from the can and wiped them down gently, while Adam reached out and slipped another wipe out of the packet Kurt had left on a nearby ledge. “Right,” Adam replied with a grimace, as he cleaned his own splattered shoes and tossed the dirty wipe into the can . “Don’t feel badly over it, Blaine. Could happen to anyone, really. Just - - Kurt, will I see you later at the play, once he's settled at the loft?”

Kurt sighed. “I don’t know, Adam. I can’t just leave him alone. Food poisoning can be dangerous. Santana will have left for her shift already,. Brody is an idiot and he’s never around the apartment without Rachel anyway, and she's at her callback and I don’t want to interrupt that. Look, maybe one of the Apples can take the extra ticket? I’m so sorry. You understand, right?”

“Sure,” Adam gave in, eyeing Blaine, who was swaying on his feet and pressing a damp wipe to his face. “Do what you need to do. Get him home. I understand.” Adam leaned over and kissed Kurt. 

“You’re a sweetheart. Have fun tonight.” 

Adam rolled his eyes. “I’d say the same, but I imagine the odds of that are pretty low. Feel better, Blaine.”

~ * ~

Blaine lay on the couch, watching a really weird old television show that Kurt was obsessed with, about four girls at a prep school … but the girls seemed to be living in a dining hall with the school’s cook, which didn’t make a lot of sense. But maybe all-girl boarding schools were different from the private schools he went to. He cuddled up happily in the soft blanket Kurt had draped over him and peeked out at beautiful Kurt.

“Think you can manage some flat ginger ale now?” Kurt asked from the kitchen, bustling around adorably like always.

“That'd be nice.” He was sorry Kurt was missing his play, but having the apartment to himself with just Kurt really was a special treat.

Kurt brought the drink and set it down with two soda crackers on a plate on the coffee table. “Slow sips. Then just take tiny nibbles on these crackers if you feel okay.” He settled on the couch near Blaine’s feet. “Oh, this is a great one. It’s the one where the mean Bates Academy boy asks Jo to the dance instead of Blair.”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh. You aren’t interested in this classic television show, then?” Kurt demanded, laughing.

“I’m sure it’s totally great, Kurt, but … well….”

“What?”

“There’s a Project Runway marathon on right now.”

Kurt looked at him sternly. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” He clicked the channel over. 

“Thanks again … for being there for me today, Kurt.” Blaine looked down at his hands a moment and drew a breath. “The thing is … I’m feeling a little better now. I haven't thrown up or ... well, you know ... in almost an hour. If you want to call Adam and meet him at that play … I’ll be okay here by myself. You can just make it, if you leave now.”

Kurt pulled Blaine’s feet into his lap and started rubbing them absent-mindedly. “Eh. I don’t really feel like going all the way into Manhattan again. I’m having fun here relaxing.” He smiled at Blaine easily, and turned back to the TV. Blaine felt that little flutter with Kurt’s name on it starting up in his chest. Instead of watching Tim Gunn, he preferred to watch Kurt’s profile as the light from the television played across it. I love you so much. 

They sat together companionably for several hours, chatting and laughing and watching TV. Blaine got sick a few more times after all, but with the exception of those episodes, he spent the evening in heaven with his own personal angel. 

 

The dream was broken all too soon by Rachel, who burst through the door to the loft and ran directly to the center of the room. He and Kurt looked up at her expectantly.

“Oh. Mah. God. Guys! Oh my god!!” she shrieked, causing Kurt to choke in surprise on his diet soda. “They loved me! They offered me the part on the spot! I’m going to be a star on Broadway!”

 

Kurt shrieked, and leapt from the couch. He grabbed Rachel’s hands, jumping up and down and screaming along with her at an impressive combined decibel level. Thrilled at her news, Blaine tried to get up to hug his sister and jump up and down with her along with Kurt. But a wave of dizziness assaulted him, and he sat down suddenly. In mid-squeal, Rachel’s face fell and she was at his side immediately.

 

“Blaine? What is it?” 

 

“Nothing. I came home sick from school with Kurt. I have a little food poisoning, it’s nothing. I’m so excited for you, Rae! Your dream role!" Blaine protested, waving off her concern.

 

“Food poisoning! Let me get you something for your stomach. Hang on,” Rachel instructed, jumping back up and running to the bathroom.

 

Rachel came back with her hands full from the medicine cabinet. “Kurt, you had plans tonight, didn't you? I'm so sorry! You missed out because I had my phone off--"

 

“That's okay,” Kurt said, smiling kindly at Blaine. “We had fun, right Blaine?"

 

Blaine nodded happily as Rachel sat him gently back on the couch and pulled the blanket back over him. He added, “It’s always fun when you’re here, Kurt. Even when I’m dying of botulism.” 

 

"Don't joke about that," Rachel said, taking Blaine's temperature with a digital ear thermometer. "No fever." She sighed with relief and smiled at Kurt gratefully. "Thanks again. I don't know what we'd do without you. Really."

 

Blaine squeezed Rachel’s hand, and beamed up at her and Kurt. Kurt had given up his big night and Rachel was so concerned about him that she had forgotten her amazing news for the moment, all to take care of him. He needed them and they had come through, and he was so grateful. Choking a little, he whispered his thanks along with Rachel’s. 

 

Eyes suspiciously misty, Kurt leaned down and gave each of them a kiss on the forehead. 

 

"No need for thanks. We're family."


	6. Growing Pains

December 2013

 

Blaine opened the door to the loft quietly, hoping his absence hadn’t been noticed.

 

No such luck. Adam and Kurt were sitting at the kitchen table. Santana was in Dani's lap in the couch. Brody was doing chin-ups on the bar he'd installed in the corner of the living area. All five of them gave him a warning look in unison as he came in. Great. That meant Rachel was on the warpath.

 

He had just shut the door when Rachel came bustling out of her room, fastening an earring, and spotted him. “You’re late, Blaine,” she scolded. “Your curfew is ten o’clock.” 

 

"It's only ten-fifteen. C'mon." Blaine flung his key at the basket by the door, not picking it up when it bounced out and landed on the floor. He pulled off his school tie with an irritated jerk. “And ten o’clock curfew is too early, especially since we live all the way out in the boondocks. I always have to leave before everybody else.” 

 

Rachel raised her eyebrows at him. “Hey. Want to go for nine? You knew we had plans tonight, and I can’t go without making sure you’re in for the night. I’m just looking out for your safety.”

 

Blaine looked imploringly at Kurt, who was sitting at the kitchen table with Adam. And Kurt, wonderful as always, tried to help. “C’mon, Rachel. Stop being so strict. He’s here now and you’re not ready anyway,” Kurt argued, cutting Rachel off mid-reprimand. “You have at least one more layer of spray-tan to go.”

 

“He’s right, babe. Proper coverage is super-important. Let me apply it?” Brody wheedled, pulling at the hem of Rachel’s tiny miniskirt. “You’re looking really, really good tonight, babe.” 

 

“Brody!” Rachel squeaked. “My brother’s right there!”

 

Brody muttered, “He’s always right there."

 

“I know the feeling,” Blaine retorted, stalking to his room. He quickly changed into his shirt sleeves and sweatpants and headed back out to the loft's common area, where he opened his laptop and plopped down on the couch to check social media and see all the fun everybody else in the world was having. 

 

Brody wandered over behind Blaine, clapping him on the shoulder. “Another big night on-line, little guy? X-tube or fratboiphysical.com?”

 

Blaine scowled, embarrassed that Brody said that in front of Kurt, who was looking at him surreptitiously with concerned, thoughtful eyes. "Why do you ask? Afraid I’ll see you on there in your latest role? I mean, that might explain the constant manscaping.” 

 

Santana barked out a laugh. “Good one, short stack. You’re learning. C’mon, Berry. Quit primping already. It's not like anybody will be looking at you, at least not when me and my girl are in the room." She gave Dani a peck on the cheek. "Let’s just go.”

 

“Where are you guys going?” Blaine asked, still staring moodily at his screen. He didn’t want to see them all dressed up. He especially didn’t want to look at the outfit Kurt was wearing to go dancing with Adam; that tight leather vest, or those knee-high boots with the safety pins, or the silk shirt or the little kerchief around his neck. And he definitely didn’t want to see the way Kurt’s hair looked so perfect, or the way that his shoulders were so broad above his graceful waist. He didn't.

 

Blaine looked again one last time in spite of himself, and was punished with another horrible spasm of jealousy and loneliness and longing. 

 

“Someplace not for kids, I’m afraid,” Adam answered Blaine, in his clipped British accent. He gallantly helped Kurt into his coat. “A gay bar, specifically.”

 

“I’m not a kid,” Blaine snapped, hating Adam for being twenty-two, for being allowed to put Kurt’s coat on him, and for being five foot ten.

 

“Of course not,” Rachel soothed, with a peck on the top of his head as she passed. “But I expect you to be asleep when we get back,” she bossed him on her way out the door. 

 

The sounds of their happy voices faded down the hall, and Blaine was alone. It was so crowded most of the time, one might reasonably suppose Blaine would be happy about some privacy and a chance to escape Rachel's "mothering". Everybody in the loft, and their significant others, treated him like a baby. Especially Kurt and Rachel. And their annoying boyfriends were always around, making things awkward and uncomfortable. 

 

Blaine just couldn’t understand what Rachel saw in Brody, especially when she had a great guy like Finn before. He knew things would be different, and way better, if only Finn were here with Rachel instead. Finn was so cool and easy-going, such a great listener and a caring person. Shallow, looks-obsessed Brody never stopped talking -- but never said a word really worth listening to. And Adam. Well. He couldn’t exactly explain what he didn’t like about Adam. But he didn’t like him. And he was all wrong for Kurt. 

 

But it was far worse when everybody left. When he was alone there was nothing to distract him from memories and thoughts … of the accident, of missing his dads, of feeling like an outsider yet again. He wished Kurt had stayed home alone with him. Even just to fold laundry or watch tv or sing together. It didn’t matter a bit to him what they did as long as he was with Kurt. He loved just being near him so much., 

 

But it hurt when Adam was always there too, being literally everything to Kurt that Blaine couldn’t. 

 

He got up and wandered to the kitchen, opening a cabinet. Santana and Dani had opened a bottle of wine, and drank just half a glass each. The bottle sat there tempting him. Nobody would miss a glassful, and he started to take it down.

 

No. He had tried sneaking a drink here and there when the angry, sad feelings had begun to get the better of him recently. He'd hoped alcohol would quell them, but it hadn’t helped much, and doing it risked incurring Rachel and Kurt's disapproval. He didn’t want that.

 

He picked up his cellphone and dialed Sebastian, who was a freshman at NYADA now. They’d stayed really good friends, seeing each other about once a week and talking often. But tonight Seb's phone went right to voice mail. Blaine considered calling Trent or Nick, but the Warblers were probably busy; they usually were on Fridays. There was no point calling the guys he’d been hanging out with before his baby curfew expired. They were at a concert in Manhattan, and wouldn’t be interested in keeping his shut-in ass company on the phone. 

 

He looked at his counselor's number, and Burt's. Both had said he could call whenever he wanted to. Burt had become a substitute long-distance dad for Blaine and his sister, and Blaine adored him. But it was too late at night to bother people. Besides... he was tired of thinking about his problems, let alone talking about them. He just wanted to pretend things were normal again. Take a break from his own head, for a little while. Was that really so much to ask?

 

He snatched a glass out of the cabinet and set it with the bottle on the counter, tapping his phone on his leg nervously. He was about to pour half a glass, just to relax a little, when the phone beeped. He glanced down at his home screen. There was a new alert.

 

He opened the Facebook app and tapped on the notifications icon. He had a new message … from that cute older guy he met at the mall while shopping for Chanukah presents for Kurt and Rachel. Up until now, Blaine had said no to meeting him again, partly because he came on suspiciously strong, but even more because … because … well, because Kurt. But it felt nice to have somebody recognize he wasn’t a little kid, for a change. He hesitated a moment before he flicked open the message:

 

“Hello, Sexy."

 

r03;r03;r03;r03;r03;~ * ~

 

Passing through the exposed-brick hallway to the loft's sliding front door, Kurt swung his hand in Adam’s and gave him a demure smile. They had a fun night, dancing with his friends new and old. He was a real part of the city now, a full-fledged, grown-up New Yorker. He shushed his tipsy roommates and their significant others. “C’mon, guys, keep it down. Blaine’s probably asleep.” 

 

Kurt opened the door as quietly as he could, and looked around, puzzled. The television was still on and an empty bottle of wine was on the coffee table next to two glasses.

 

“Well, well, looks like Baby Gay got his swerve on tonight,” Santana slurred, leaning heavily on Dani. “That was almost full when we left.”

 

Rachel snatched up the bottle and stormed to the curtain surrounding Blaine’s small cubicle of a bedroom.

 

"Rachel, don’t!” Kurt cried out, too late, as Rachel grabbed the curtain and yanked it open.

 

The six friends stood as one, mouths dropped, at the sight of Blaine, shirt off and in the arms of a very sexy, very shirtless man Kurt had never seen before. He was beyond relieved to see that both their pants were still on; but he was aghast at what kind of pants the stranger was sporting. Bright red felt with white fur trim? with … suspenders? What on earth - - 

 

“Blaine!” Rachel finally shrieked. “What are you doing?”

 

“If you don’t know, Berry, then Pornstar here isn’t doing his job right,” Santana said between spasms of laughter. “You little devil, Blainers! Santa's little helper!" She stumbled to one of Kurt's retro chic plastic chairs and sat down with a thud and screech of plastic against the hardwood floor. Dani smiled uncertainly and hovered behind her chair, stroking Santana’s long hair.

 

“Who the hell is this?” Rachel stormed, pointing the wine bottle at the stranger like a sword, backing him into the tight space between the bed and Blaine's dresser.

 

“Santa." Blaine struggled to get his shirt over his head while flinging Santa's red hat at him.

 

“His - - his name is Santa??”

 

Kurt observed that the chiseled stranger had to be thirty if he was a day, and he was in full St. Nick regalia ... minus the beard and shirt. It was lucky they'd gotten home when they did, even if Blaine probably didn't think so right now.

 

Blaine's head emerged finally through the neck opening. “I don’t know his real name. I met him at the mall when I was Chanukah shopping. We friended each other on Facebook and - - well, he poked me tonight and - -“

 

Santana set her chin on her hand, avidly eager to watch the drama unfold. “I bet he did.” 

 

"Nothing happened!" Blaine protested. "We were just kissing!" 

 

"Without shirts. Totally good old fashioned innocent fun," Santana mocked. "Better watch it! That could lead to dancing!" 

 

Dani tugged Santana’s arm and inclined her head toward the nook that served as Santana’s bedroom, but Santana could never resist a good scene.

 

Santa quavered over Rachel's head, "Blake, why is this lady so mad? Is she ... your wife or something?"

 

“My little brother's name is Blaine. And as anybody with eyes and a brain should be able to tell, he is under age – for drinking or for anything else you were doing,” Rachel informed the cowering St. Nick. “And I'm calling the police."

 

At that, Santa looked aghast. He snapped his suspenders up over his bare chest and shoved past her, bolting out the door without a backwards glance. He sprinted down the corridor, with Rachel pelting his thick leather belt and jingle-bell trimmed scarf after him. When he was out of sight, Rachel whirled toward Blaine. “Have you lost your mind?” she began, as Blaine stood up and headed toward the bathroom without a word.

 

Adam nudged Kurt. "You want to go to my place? This looks like it could get ugly." 

 

"No, of course not. Blaine's in trouble and I have to help deal with this," Kurt hissed back. 

 

"It just seems like a family thing."

 

Kurt looked at him, surprised. "It is. And I'm part of this family. I thought you would understand that by now.” He bit his lip when he saw a slightly hurt look on Adam’s face, but he didn’t have time to deal with that now. Rachel, ever protective of her baby brother and closest remaining family, was on a rampage and Kurt needed to make sure she didn’t spin out of control. 

 

Rachel followed Blaine to the bathroom continuing to shout at him through the door. “I mean, were you thinking at all, Blaine? Bringing a stranger into our home? Getting drunk with him? How could you be so irresponsible? Do you know what could have happened?”

 

Rachel was indeed beginning to spin out of control. Ignoring Kurt’s words, she got up in Blaine’s face the moment he emerged from the bathroom. “You are grounded for a month, mister," she shouted, stamping her foot. "And you won’t be left alone again until you prove you can be trusted. One of us will be here at all times to watch you." Rachel jabbed her finger around at the others.

 

“Hold the phone! This just stopped being funny! I didn’t sign up for guard duty,” Santana protested. Dani, Brody and Adam grumbled as well, subsiding into silence when Rachel glared at them. 

 

Kurt cleared his throat. "Rachel- I think maybe--"

 

Before he could say any more, Blaine crossed his arms over his chest, and asked angrily, “Can I say something?”

 

“No. You can go to your room. NOW!" Rachel shouted. 

 

Kurt winced, but hoped at least this would separate them until cooler heads prevailed. Unfortunately, it was obvious Blaine was none too pleased at being sent to his room like a child. 

 

Blaine stared with his mouth hanging open for a moment. Then, rolling his eyes in dramatic teenaged fashion, he stomped his way back to his room. Outside the curtain, he turned with his chin held up. “You are not my mother. You are not my boss. And you drink all the time even though you’re under 21. And you moved him in here when you barely knew him," he accused, for good measure, pointing at Brody furiously. "You’re a total hypocrite.”

 

The five spectators swiveled their heads to await Rachel's response to this unprecedented defiance. Kurt had never seen Blaine speak that way to anyone, much less his beloved older sister. Rachel’s eyes narrowed and Kurt braced himself for the onslaught.

 

“There’s a difference between me drinking at nineteen, and you drinking at fifteen. And between my adult relationship and your decision to bring a perverted stranger into our home, Blaine!" Rachel's voice rose in both pitch and volume as she got worked up again. Kurt tried to put a placating hand on her arm, but she shook him off. "And never mind that ‘not your mother’ line. I’m in charge of you, you’re living under my roof. So guess what? I am the boss of you. Until you’re eighteen, you will follow my rules! It’s my job to make sure you’re safe, even if you don’t like it. Now, I said go to your room.”

 

Blaine stuck out his lower lip and grabbed the curtain, swishing it shut as hard as he could behind him. Rachel shrieked in frustration and stormed to the kitchen, hurling the wine bottle into the recycling bin.

 

Santana hemmed, "erm... about that wine... can I assume you'll replace it? I spent $20 on that bottle?"

 

Rachel glared at Santana, and Kurt sidled up to Rachel, shaking his head warningly at Santana.

 

“So that’s it? That’s how you're handling this?” Kurt said. 

 

Rachel turned on Kurt, her hands on her hips. "What do you expect me to say? Go ahead and invite any old predator you want to the loft for cocktails and light roleplay?"

 

The other roommates milled their way into the kitchen area to listen to their hushed conference. 

 

Looking at the others uneasily, Kurt answered, “No, but instead of getting mad, could you talk about this rationally? Make sure he’s being safe? Whatever sex ed he’s getting at school, if it’s anything like McKinley, probably won’t even acknowledge gay sex exists. You can't just send him to his room and pretend this didn’t happen."

 

“I have a better idea. You handle it,” Rachel announced, poking him in the chest. “Go ahead. Give him the 'birds and birds' speech, if you think I haven't done enough. You're the male authority figure in his day-to-day life, so. Go for it.” She narrowed her eyes at him in challenge.

 

The rest of the group nodded gravely at him when he looked around for support, and finally Kurt let out an exasperated groan and went to his room. 

 

He rummaged for the pamphlets his father had given him, breathed deeply, and went toward Blaine’s curtain. Standing outside, he felt the others’ eyes on him as he tapped on the post in lieu of a door. He turned around and gave them a filthy look before tapping again, louder this time.

 

“What now?” Blaine shouted.

 

“It’s Kurt. Can I come in?”

 

“Thanks for asking first,” Blaine’s sarcastic voice floated out for Rachel’s benefit. “Sure.”

 

Blaine was sitting cross-legged with his back against the headboard. “So.”

 

“So,” Kurt echoed, turning red-faced and sitting gingerly on the edge of the rumpled bed. He handed Blaine the pamphlets in as businesslike a manner as he could muster. Blaine turned them over in his hands and looked at the covers briefly, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

“I know how embarrassing it is to have questions about this stuff, and not having anybody to talk to about it. I guess it’s time for The Talk, and I’m elected to give it.”

 

Blaine laughed lightly and tossed the pamphlets on his nightstand. Kurt looked up, irritated. If he had to give this speech, he didn’t appreciate being laughed at for his trouble. “What’s so funny?” he demanded.

 

“Aw, Kurt. My dads gave me The Talk twice. The straight one when I was thirteen, before I came out. Then the gay one after I came out. They were humiliatingly thorough both times. I know all about protection and what's in those pamphlets. I don’t need another one from you too -- no offense. And nothing happened anyway."

 

“Oh. But … maybe you do need another discussion. The way you behaved tonight kinda makes me think so." Kurt leaned over to catch Blaine's eyes. "Be honest. Do you really think meeting up, alone, with a total stranger who's so much older than you, is safe?"

 

Blaine looked down at his hands, but didn't answer. Kurt saw he was getting through and pressed on calmly. “And getting drunk with a stranger can put you in even more danger. Blaine, why? Are you okay?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I be? I mean, I just lost my second set of parents, my home, all the friends I’d managed to make since getting bullied out of my old school. And it’s been great living here crammed in like sardines with people who - -“ Blaine trailed off. 

 

“Who what?” 

 

“Who are busy,” Blaine said, looking shamefaced. “I get it. You all have your lives, and I don’t expect anything from you. I just miss how things used to be. I know I have to accept it. This is my life now, and ...” He pushed his palms against his eyes as if to keep the tears that were welling up from falling. His face crumpled.

 

Kurt scooted up on the bed next to Blaine, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Why didn’t you say anything to one of us? You have to know we’re here for you and love you.” 

 

“I do know that. You’ve all been great, especially you and Rae. That’s why it’s hard to tell you I’m struggling, sometimes. And then it builds up inside.” Blaine put his head in his hands, rubbing his face with exhaustion. “It’s not so bad all the time. Mostly at night or when I'm not busy. I guess I wanted something to numb it, make me feel good temporarily at least.”

 

“How do you feel now, though?” Kurt prompted. “Better or worse?”

 

The boy couldn’t or wouldn’t answer, and Kurt relented. “Look, get in your pajamas and go to sleep. We can talk about it in the morning, we’re all exhausted." He hesitated a moment. "Blaine, I know Rachel came down on you a little hard tonight. But remember, you're all the family she has and she's been through a lot. Cut her some slack. She worries and she nags, but it's out of love and concern."

 

Blaine whispered, "I know."

 

Kurt got up. “And Blaine. Please. If you feel lonely or like you’re going to do something reckless again, come talk to me. I’m always here for you. Getting drunk or fooling around with strangers won't solve anything, and could buy you a new set of problems. Promise?”

 

Blaine’s eyes were damp, and he nodded, “I promise, Kurt. You're right... and I won’t let you and Rachel down like that again.”


	7. Changing Roles

March 2014

 

"Your turn to draw, Blaine," Dani said. Blaine took the magic marker from her and selected a Pictionary card. He studied it a moment, and then bounded to the oversized pad of paper set on an easel in front of the group. The loft-mates and their friends were holding their weekly Post-Monday-Night-Dinner Pictionary Tournament, and tonight it was Blaine, Dani and Santana vs. Kurt, Adam and Sebastian. The two teams were arranged on facing couches.

 

With a silly flourish, Blaine roughly sketched out what Kurt immediately recognized as a round baking dish with a puff of soufflé above it. Beside the soufflé, he added a circle, with lines emanating outwards around it. Blaine pointed exaggeratedly at both, tapping the circle with his pen in an upwards motion and looking encouragingly at Dani and Santana.

 

Kurt resisted the urge to call out the answer, which was obviously “The Sun Also Rises." He and Blaine were officially forbidden to play on the same team in loft Pictionary tournaments, since they always guessed each other’s illustrated clues instantly, taking the fun out of the game for everyone else.

 

Ignoring Blaine, Santana slapped her shapely thighs and stood up dramatically. She positioned herself in front of Blaine, blocking the easel from view, and fixed each member of the group in turn with a meaningful look. Finally, she demanded, "So are we gonna talk about the elephant in the room?" Behind her, Blaine helplessly gestured at the “sun” again, to no avail, before capping the marker and sitting back down in resignation.

 

"Does anybody know what she's on about now?" Adam whispered to Kurt and Sebastian. Since Sebastian had enrolled in NYADA, Blaine stubbornly maintained their friendship and insisted on including his "good friend Sebastian" in Monday Night Dinners. And of course, Kurt had gotten stuck on his team. As a result, Kurt knew he had no hope of winning tonight. When it was his turn, Sebastian always drew penises or shapely male behinds, no matter what the clue was. Sebastian's naughty drawings always made Blaine giggle boyishly, and always aggravated Kurt intensely. Two reactions Sebastian never tired of provoking, long after the joke stopped being funny. Or, in Kurt’s opinion, long after the joke never started being funny to begin with.

 

Sebastian yawned and stretched. "Yes, I do know. I also don't care,” he answered Adam. Smiling broadly at Blaine, he teased, “Unless we turn this into strip Pictionary, or you start drawing some gay porn up there, Killer, I think this is a new low even for a Monday night dinner here. It's even worse than that MarioKart marathon with those two geeky friends of yours - the hot blonde one and the nerd in the wheelchair. What's next, a spelling bee?"

 

Santana stamped her foot for attention. "Hello! I have the floor now! I want us to talk about that plasticine freak Rachel's sleeping with, and who's taking up 95% of the bathroom with depilatory agents and bronzer. Or maybe that's just Rachel’s arsenal, now that I think about it."

 

"Hey, Santana, that's my sister you're talking about. And Brody's her boyfriend, for whatever reason, so ..."

 

Santana nodded. "Exactly. So you should be asking what my brilliant detective work has revealed about him, instead of playing party games."

 

"Okay, so shoot, " Kurt sighed. 

 

Santana looked around, pleased.

 

"He's a drug dealer."

 

Kurt hooted in derision. 

 

Adam laughed along with him. “C'mon Santana. I’ve known him since we were freshmen together. Brody's no criminal." 

 

"No, he's just an idiot,” Kurt agreed. “He's entirely too stupid to run any kind of business, including drug dealing. He can’t even remember to wear a shirt most of the time. Besides, he's a health nut. He'd never do drugs. They're terrible for the skin and teeth. His teeth are huge but impeccable," he finished solemnly. 

 

"He doesn't have to do drugs to be a dealer. Look. He's poor," Sebastian started, cut off by a groan from Dani.

 

"Sebastian! That’s terrible! Being poor doesn't mean he's a drug dealer," Blaine protested. 

 

"If he needed money for tuition it might, Handsome. He can't possibly afford the tuition at NYADA, and he's not on a scholarship. He might be doing it to put himself through college. I really think Latina Nancy Drew over there is on point about this."

"Thank you. At least one person in this loft can look at the evidence clearly,” Santana said. "Up high, my fellow bitch," she added, slapping high five with Sebastian. 

 

Blaine cut in. "What evidence, Santana? The fact that you hate him doesn't count."

 

Santana slipped a hand down her cleavage, fishing around to her underboob area and eliciting grimaces from the four gay men in her five-person audience. "Sebastian and I went through Malibu Brody's personal effects while all of you were clearing the table and washing dishes and all that boring stuff earlier. We found this."

 

She tossed a beeper on the table with a clatter. They all looked at it curiously. Santana nodded definitively. "Unless he's a doctor on call, which is about as likely as a turtle being an astrophysicist, this means ..."

 

Everyone stared at her, uncomprehending, until Sebastian drawled, "Nobody under 25 has a beeper anymore, unless they're dealing. I know. My father is a State Attorney."

 

Kurt sighed. "We know all about your important daddy, Sebastian. You've mentioned him before. Repeatedly. But there still could be a valid reason Brody has that thing."

 

"Like what?" Dani asked. Blaine shot Kurt a worried look. .

 

The pager buzzed on the table. Looking first at Santana, who nodded, Sebastian leaned over and picked it up. He peered intently at the display, and then tapped the number into his phone. 

 

"Maybe we shouldn't --" Blaine started.

 

"Sssh, Sweet Cheeks. I got this. No need for you to get those pretty hands dirty. Well, at least not that way." Sebastian winked at Blaine as he put the phone on speaker and set it, ringing, on the coffee table.

 

"Hello?" A woman's cultured voice answered. They all looked at one another, surprised. 

 

"Hello! You ... paged me just now?" Sebastian answered.

 

There was a slight pause. "Brody? You sound different tonight."

 

"Sure, it's me. You’re just on speaker. I'm on the elliptical .... working on my cardio," Sebastian improvised. "What can I do for you tonight?" 

 

They all leaned forward, eyes trained on the phone.

 

"Very well,” the disembodied voice said. “I had a delightful time last night at the opera and … after. I'd like a ...repeat performance."

 

They all looked puzzled at each other, except Sebastian, who seemed to have caught on quickly. "Another escort job then? With ... extras included?" 

 

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other in open dismay.

 

"Yes. The opera again, my private box."   
+  
Santana spluttered and Sebastian shushed her with a warning look.

 

"... be prepared to spend the night at my place this time. My husband is out of town."

 

Kurt shut his eyes. This can't be happening. Poor Rachel. 

 

Sebastian continued the sting. "All night ... let's see, that'll cost..."

 

"Five thousand. I know. That's certainly no problem. Meet me at the opera house in an hour."

 

"Oh, sorry ... can't. Wrong number." Sebastian tapped the disconnect button and sat back, grinning.

 

"Holy," Santana breathed. "He's a gigolo."

 

The door clanked open, and Brody ambled in, flashing a toothy, vacant smile. "Hey, everybody! Oh wow, Pictionary! My favorite! Can I play?" 

 

"I'd say you're definitely a player," Santana smirked. Throwing her a brief puzzled glance, Brody set his keys down and started going through the pockets of a spare jacket hung by the door.

 

"Looking for something?" Kurt challenged him. "Can we help you find it?"

 

Brody dropped the jacket on a chair. "No thanks, Kurt." 

 

Blaine was clenching and unclenching his fists, and Kurt reached to put a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him. It didn't work. Blaine brushed off Kurt's hand and stormed over to Brody,fixing mim with an aggressive glare.. 

 

"Does my sister know about you?" 

 

Brody was taken aback at Blaine's tone. "Know what?" His voice was cautious. 

 

"Know what? Know what? Does she know that you're sleeping with other women?"

 

Brody looked relieved. "Oh. That. We happen to have an open relationship, not that it's your business. So if somebody saw me out with a woman, and that's what this is about, it's no big deal." He opened the refrigerator and took out a wheatgrass juice, opening it and raising it to his lips.

 

Blaine looked uncertainly at the group. "She..she knows you slept with another woman last night?" 

 

"For money," Santana added helpfully. "Does she know you did it for money. And it wasn't the first time? I kinda bet she doesn't." She held up the pager. "You really should keep better track of this. Especially when you're on-call, Dr. Love." 

 

Brody choked on his cleansing drink.

 

"Does my sister know everything you're doing, Brody? And … are you being, y'know, careful with your - your customers?" Blaine asked anxiously. 

 

"You're sure not being careful with our little Miss Berry, if that pregnancy scare last month was any indication." Santana paused at Blaine's horrified look. "Woops. That was kind of a secret. My bad."

 

Instantly, Blaine was livid. "You sleep with strange women -- and then come home to my sister -- lie to her about it -- and aren't safe with her?" Blaine swatted the empty juice bottle out of Brody's hand and across the room. Brody actually looked a little intimidated by the much smaller, younger boy. Kurt couldn’t blame him; Blaine was an easy going kid, but he was kind of adorably scary when he got mad. Like a miffed panda bear.

 

Kurt backed Blaine away from Brody gently. “Blaine, no. Let me handle this.” Stepping in front of Blaine, Kurt looked imperiously at Brody. “Just … Brody. You need to break it off with Rachel, and then, well, nobody needs to know about this. Do you get me?”

 

“No!” Blaine shouted over Kurt's shoulder before a dazed looking Brody could collect himself and manage a response. “He has to tell her the truth!”

 

“But Blaine, that’ll humiliate her,” Kurt pointed out. “She’s better off not knowing about this. We should protect her from the truth, she can’t handle it --"

 

“No,” Blaine repeated bluntly, staring at Brody. “She deserves the truth. If she’s okay with this, after she knows everything, fine. But she has to have all the facts.” The others murmured their agreement. 

 

Brody looked around at the group defensively. Finally he found his voice, erupting, “You know what? Screw all of you. You can't judge me, not with your Congressman dads and trust accounts paying your way." Dani and Adam, both of whom lived paycheck to paycheck, looked at each other questioningly and then shrugged. 

 

"I never even had a dad, let alone rich hotshot dads like all of you. It’s just mom and me and three other kids. Mom's disabled. College costs $40,000 a year. There's still rent, and books and fees and transportation and oh, food. And I have to send everything I make after that to help at home. Look, I’m not proud of what I’m doing, but I have no other choice. You don't know what I've been through!"

 

There was nothing cute or sweet in Blaine's golden eyes now. They narrowed so icily that Kurt shivered. Blaine walked up to Brody, stopping an inch away, and issued a cold, clear order.

 

“Tell her. Or I will.” 

 

Dani, Santana and Adam also glared over at Brody, who looked down, clearly defeated. He nodded silently.

 

"Damn, Blaine," Sebastian said, with a low whistle. "You took him to the woodshed. Totally hot, Tiger." 

 

Kurt felt impressed and vaguely turned on by Blaine's authoritative manner as well, but swallowed hard and struggled to dispel his unwanted reaction. When did sweet little Blaine get so...so ... masterful?

 

Just then, Rachel breezed in at the door carrying a pink bakery box, her belated contribution to Monday night dinner. “Brody! Hey, babe! I’m so happy to see you! I thought you were working tonight - -” she cut off and looked at all their serious faces. “What’s going on?” 

 

Kurt sighed. “Brody has something to tell you.”

 

~ * ~

 

“Is she still crying?” 

 

Santana looked up at Blaine, awaiting his reply as he walked out of his sister’s room and into the kitchen looking weary. 

 

Santana was at the table, halfway through the chocolate babka Rachel had brought home two hours earlier. Adam and Dani had slunk away discreetly to their own apartments, and Sebastian had declared the whole thing made him horny and left to find and pick up a man. That left Kurt, Santana and Blaine left to tend to Rachel’s broken heart. 

 

Blaine nodded. “Yeah, she is, Santana.”

 

Santana cut another slice of cake. “Geeze. Really? You’d better get her some Gatorade. She’s probably dehydrated.”

 

“Santana.”

 

“I just don’t see what all the crying is about. She couldn’t be in love with that brain dead phony.”

 

Blaine sat down with a slump in the chair next to her. “But she thought she was. She wanted to be. And ... I think he did love her. She needed that, I guess.” He rubbed his eyes with a yawn. “Maybe you were right, Kurt. Maybe her knowing the truth wasn’t so great. She’s so devastated and bitter now.”

 

Kurt shrugged, brushing the crumbs from the table. “I don’t know. If he’d backed off because we threatened him, and she never knew the reason, that maybe would have been worse. She’d always think it was something she did wrong. And we couldn’t just let him keep lying to her. You were right.”

 

“Thanks. But …” Blaine looked sad. “She just told me she can’t trust any man ever again. Well, except you and me. It broke my heart to hear her like that. She’s taking this so hard.”

 

“She’ll get through it. We’ll help her,” Kurt said softly. “At least she can always trust all of us. You’re a great little brother, Blaine,” he said, putting a hand on Blaine’s. 

 

Blaine looked down on their linked hands, and smiled sadly. Santana picked up her plate and left for her room, a knowing eyebrow arched.

 

***

 

April 2014 

 

"Hey, Blaine? You have a minute?" 

 

Blaine stopped fussing with the final draft of his Modern Drama midterm paper and smiled to himself. For you, Kurt? Always. Blaine never missed any opportunity for alone time with Kurt. He saved his work and shut the laptop. "Sure. What's up?" 

 

Kurt held out some pages of typewritten script with half the lines highlighted. "I have a scene in class tomorrow. I was supposed to practice with my partner tonight, and she just called and bailed on me. Can you...?"

 

Taking the script, Blaine glanced at it and then up at Kurt, curiously. "You want me to run lines with you?"

 

"Yes! You're saving my life.” Kurt collapsed in relief on the couch next to Blaine. “It's the dress shop scene from West Side Story. I'm Tony, so --- I guess if you don't mind reading the female lead ...?"

 

“No problem. I’m your Maria, Tony. At your service.”

 

"I owe you one." Kurt darted into his room and wheeled two dressmaker's mannequins into the living room while Blaine skimmed the lines.

 

"Oooh, props. Fun!" Blaine exclaimed. Kurt chuckled and tossed a top hat on one mannequin, draping a length of tulle over the other. 

 

"Your mama!" Blaine trilled, starting the scene. 

 

Kurt giggled, spinning the "female" mannequin and answering, in character as Tony, "She will come running from the kitchen to meet you. She lives in the kitchen." 

 

"Dressed so elegant?" Blaine teased coyly as Maria, fluttering his eyelashes. 

 

They went on acting the scene, and Blaine was sure Kurt was the most flawless and handsome Tony ever. Caught up in the romance of the play, Blaine was thoroughly amazed and enchanted by Kurt's spectacular acting, as they knelt, linked hands, and exchanged marriage vows solemnly. 

 

"With this ring, I thee wed," Blaine recited, breathless and entranced. Kurt really is selling this. It seems totally real.

 

Kurt launched right into the duet that followed the mock ceremony, and Blaine felt thrilled to his fingertips to hear those beautiful lyrics about "one hand, one heart, one life," sung to him so convincingly by his adored Kurt. Blaine joined the duet, and as always, their very different voices blended and complemented each other perfectly. He loved singing with Kurt. 

 

The script called for a kiss at the end of the scene - alas, only on the hand, but his heart pounded until he feared Kurt might actually hear it when his soft lips touched the back of Blaine’s hand. 

 

And ... lingered there, with Kurt's suddenly stormy eyes fixed on his. Blaine swallowed. What's happening? Is he still acting? But the scene’s over … 

 

They stared at each other another moment before Kurt laughed, a little shakily, and dropped Blaine’s hand.

 

"Thanks, Blaine, so much. That was … that was a lot of fun.” Kurt got up off his knees and dusted off his slacks. “I have to say ... I wish you were my partner tomorrow. You're a lot better than that girl's gonna be." Kurt lightly punched Blaine on the shoulder bro-style as he turned away and gathered up his script, before scrambling back to his room in a suddenly rather great hurry. The fleeting magic of the moment had slipped away, but Blaine stayed kneeling on the floor, eyes closed dreamily, committing Kurt’s voice and lips and smile to memory, a precious treasure in his soul.

 

May 2014

 

The elevator pinged open and Kurt struggled out, carrying far too many grocery bags. Funny how a stop for “just a couple things” can turn into a full-on shopping spree, and he hadn’t brought his handy grocery cart to lug it all home. He staggered to his apartment door, loaded down, and banged on it with his booted foot. “Blaine! Lemme in, my hands are full!”

 

Blaine quickly opened the door and reached to take two bags from Kurt. He followed Kurt into the kitchen, setting the bags on the table. “You went out for a bottle of milk and a loaf of bread. What did you buy?” he asked, peering into the bags. “Oooh! Bomb Pops! My favorite! Thanks, Kurt!” He quickly ripped one open, shoved it completely into his mouth and started slurping loudly on it.

 

Kurt slapped at Blaine’s hand. “Not this close to the gourmet Monday Night Dinner I’m planning, please! Put that revolting thing away and have it after dinner.” Sometime when I’m not around to see it, Kurt thought uncomfortably. Kurt only bought them because they were on sale and he knew Blaine loved them. He hadn’t thought it through completely.

 

Somehow pouting around the red, white and blue pop in his mouth, a reluctant Blaine slowly slid the frozen treat back out of his mouth, licking his lips afterwards. Kurt looked away quickly, putting away the other groceries, as Blaine re-wrapped the Bomb Pop, labeled it "Blaine" with a Sharpie and put it in the freezer. 

 

“So, what are we having?” Blaine asked, folding up the grocery bags Kurt was emptying, and placing them under the sink. “And how can I help?”

 

Kurt set a pot of salted water on the stove. “Rack of lamb with oven-roasted rosemary potatoes. You can peel the potatoes.” Kurt handed him a five-pound bag and a peeler. “Put them in a bowl of cold water as you peel them. When they’re all done, cut them into one-inch pieces. By then, this water will probably be boiling, so drop them in to par-boil.” 

 

“Will do,” Blaine said cheerfully. “Who’s coming tonight?”

 

“The usual. Dani, Santana, Sam. Artie and Mercedes. Rachel.” Kurt turned the oven on and then started arranging the rack of lamb into a crown on a roasting pan, wrapping it with lengths of kitchen twine he knotted off tightly.

 

“No Adam tonight?” Blaine asked. 

 

Kurt glanced over at Blaine, who was standing at the sink, focused intently on his own task. 

 

“No Adam.”

 

“Sebastian can’t make it either,” Blaine remarked. He was paring the eyes out of the potatoes with a small knife, and Kurt was about to warn him not to hold the knife that way when the potato slipped. The tip of the knife pricked Blaine’s hand and he yelped, dropping potato and knife in the sink. 

 

Kurt dropped the kitchen twine and rushed over. “Are you okay?” he asked anxiously, grabbing Blaine’s hand and examining it. There was a drop of blood in his palm. “You’re bleeding!”

 

“Barely,” Blaine protested as Kurt held the injured hand under the running cold water tap. “It’s just a tiny cut, Kurt.” Blaine looked at Kurt with knitted eyebrows, and Kurt blushed as he turned off the faucet. He saw that it wasn’t anything to get excited about. He did. But that didn’t stop him from holding Blaine’s hand while he pulled a paper towel off the roll and tenderly dried it off, looking down intently at it and avoiding Blaine’s gaze. He held Blaine’s hand while he opened the junk drawer and rummaged in it for a small band-aid. He didn’t let go while he looked for the tiny puncture, a difficult task since it had already stopped bleeding, and applied the band-aid. 

 

Blaine ducked his head and then looked up, catching Kurt’s eyes with a mischievous look. “Are you going to kiss it better?” he teased. Before Kurt could form a response, Blaine smiled. “Thanks, Kurt.” He freed his hand and turned to the sink to pick up the potato and small paring knife again. 

 

Kurt backed into the pot rack, setting the pots and pans clanging. He scrabbled overhead and pulled down the rest of the cookware he’d need for the meal. “Just be more careful,” Kurt said lamely. "You klutz."

 

Blaine eyed him with an odd expression. “Okay.” He turned back to the potatoes serenely, and a rattled Kurt started the glaze for the lamb, when the door to the loft flew open with a deafening smash. The potato Blaine was peeling shot out of his hand again. “What the hell – Rae?”

 

Rachel was stamping her way past, flinging her pocketbook at the couch and her sweater at the coat rack. She didn’t answer, but went straight to the bathroom and slammed the door behind herself.

 

Santana sauntered into the apartment and delicately closed the door.

 

“Santana, what’s going on? Why is Rachel so upset?” Kurt demanded. 

 

“I have great news, but I think I should wait for Rachel to announce it,” Santana near-shouted. “Are you coming out of the bathroom, Your Royal Shortness?”

 

Rachel opened the door with another smash and stood glowering in the doorway. “Santana came into my theater today and auditioned to be my understudy.”

 

“Successfully!” Santana interjected. “I blew the producers away. They said they’d never seen a Fanny quite like mine.”

 

Kurt chuckled, “Well, it is a pretty impressive fanny. Or so the football team back home always said.” Santana rolled her eyes and Kurt laughed, hugging her. “Congratulations, Santana. Rachel, you must be thrilled.” He looked at Rachel and the words died on his lips. 

 

Rachel was weeping openly.

 

“Rae, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?” Blaine asked, wiping his hands on his jeans and rushing over to her side. “This is great news! Your roommate is getting a big break, and you two can work together. Isn’t that a good thing?”

 

“You’d think she'd see it that way, but no,” Santana said bitterly. “Your sister's so selfish and insecure, she can’t stand having an understudy, especially me.”

 

“Rae, all Broadway leads have an understudy,” Blaine said. He stroked her hair. “You know that.”

 

Rachel spluttered, “You don't understand. She sang ‘Don’t Rain on My Parade’. She stole all my intonations. All my gestures. All my phrasing, from when I did it at Sectionals sophomore year.”

 

“Like you didn’t steal all that from Barbra Streisand,” Santana said. “Get real.”

 

“You couldn’t stand it, could you? You couldn’t stand seeing me succeed. You had to show me up in front of the producers with your fuck-me heels and that tube top masquerading as a dress - -“

 

Santana shrugged. “That’s what I wear grocery shopping, Berry. You know that.”

 

“It proves you know nothing about Fanny and who she is. You’re all wrong for the part. You don’t even want it. You hate Broadway. But you had to try to take my dream from me anyway.”

 

“Rachel, stop it!” Kurt exclaimed. “It’s a job, a part! Of course Santana would try out for it, why wouldn’t she - -“

 

“That’s right, why wouldn’t she? She’s only hated me for years and done everything in her power to take what I wanted, for no reason other than to spite me. First Finn, now this.” 

 

Blaine looked back and forth between the two girls, but stood by Rachel, holding her around the shoulders.

 

Kurt shook his head, and tried to reason with Rachel. “Are you being serious? You weren’t even with Finn when Santana slept with him, and that was a million years ago, in high school. And somebody has to be your understudy. How can you begrudge her this shot, Rachel?”

 

“Because she’s a selfish bitch,” Santana interjected. “Everything has to be all about her.”

 

Rachel threw off Blaine’s arm. “You’re taking her side?” she asked Kurt ominously. “This is ‘All About Eve’ times a thousand, Kurt. She’s going to sabotage me and ruin my shot before I even get to take it. Just because she’s jealous and always has been.”

 

“Guess what, Thumbelina? That’s what the psychologists call projection,” Santana sneered. “You think everybody was jealous of you, and that’s why nobody liked you in high school?” She continued, her words and voice growing more and more cruel. “Don’t make me laugh. Everybody hated you because you’re selfish, short, and horrible. And you should talk about sabotage. You’d sabotage anybody who was a threat to you. Does the name Sunshine Corazon ring a bell?"

 

“Stop, Santana! Stop it,” Blaine begged. “Both of you. Please don’t say any more. This is wrong. We’re a family. Family supports each other, builds each other up. Our dads taught us that, Rachel- -”

 

“She’s not family. She’s a traitor. And we’re not staying here where people are trying to sap my positivity and bring me down. I can’t handle it.” Rachel fled to her room, grabbing a suitcase from under her bed. “Pack your things, Blaine. We’re moving out.”

 

“No, Rachel, don’t do this. This is our home. I don’t want to move again,” Blaine pleaded.

 

Kurt looked entreatingly at Santana. “Please, Santana. Apologize or do something - -“

 

“I won’t apologize.” Santana looked at Blaine’s sad face, then at Rachel’s shaking back as she flung clothes into her pink rollaway suitcase, and chewed her lip. 

 

“She’s fragile … she’s been through so much,” Kurt begged. “And you were … really hard on her in high school. You can’t blame her for being suspicious of you. Let's calm down and find a way to make this work.“

 

Santana sighed, looking suddenly exhausted. “Kurt, you’re a better person than I am. But I’m not so terrible that I’ll let her uproot Blaine again.” She called over to Rachel, “Put that My Little Pony-ass suitcase away, Berry. I’ll go stay with Dani until this blows over.”

 

Kurt put a hand on Santana’s arm, silently thanking her. 

 

“I’ll get my things tomorrow after you all go to school. I have enough stuff at Dani’s for tonight,” she said dully. She grabbed her purse and walked to the door, gesturing to Kurt to follow.

 

Once at the door, Santana leaned close to Kurt and whispered in his ear, “You need to keep your eye on Blaine. You're the only sane person he has left to talk to in this loft. And a word of advice? Keep your eyes in your head and your dick in your pants … she’ll never forgive you if you act on what you’re feeling.”

 

Kurt drew back, shocked, and Santana smiled sadly at him. “How she hasn’t caught on, I don’t know,” she added, voice still a whisper. “I know how hard it must be for you … in every sense of the word.” She tossed him a smirk at him before continuing. . “I sympathize. But don't risk it unless you’re willing to deal with the fallout. And unless you think Blaine can handle it too. Because it’ll be bad.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, and then she was gone.


	8. Tables Turned

June 2014

 

Kurt woke up with the sunlight streaming into his face before his alarm was due to ring at 9:00 a.m. He shielded his eyes groggily. Last night, alone in the loft for the first time, he had left the privacy curtains open. He’d have to make sure to draw the blinds before going to bed tonight. 

 

He yawned and rolled out of bed and onto the floor to do his morning push-ups and stretches, trying to get his blood moving and wake up fully. This important duty done, he wandered out into the empty kitchen.

 

It was eerily quiet. The Berrys were habitually early risers, and had usually run their morning scales, showered, and dressed before Kurt was even out of bed. And Blaine was a firm believer in hot breakfasts, even on weekdays. So Kurt was accustomed to seeing Blaine’s perpetually happy face greet him with a stack of homemade blueberry pancakes, or an omelette, or steel-cut Irish oatmeal, or all three. Even on an off-day, Blaine never failed to make coffee and hand-squeeze fruit juice for the loft. 

 

So Kurt’s spoiled stomach rumbled its demand for breakfast. He opened the refrigerator and surveyed the contents. There was nothing in there but ingredients Blaine had stocked for him before he left for California. Kurt certainly knew his way around a kitchen; he could make elaborate, classic French dishes that were way beyond Blaine's repertoire. But for Kurt, cooking was all about the presentation, the artistry. Without an audience to appreciate his creations, cooking felt like just another chore. Besides, he didn’t have time. So he grabbed a piece of fruit and a roll, poured a glass of milk, and sat down at the table. 

 

He looked across the table at Blaine’s empty chair and choked down the cold food quickly. He missed Blaine’s cheerful morning patter. It usually helped get him in a good mood for the day, even though their morning conversations were largely one-sided until Kurt fully woke up. He wondered what was Blaine doing at that moment, but it was too early to call California, to see how the trip was going and chat a little. He rinsed his milk glass and dried it, setting it back on the shelf, and brushed away the crumbs from the table. 

 

Kurt wondered why he was feeling so blue. He wasn’t used to being alone, he supposed. It reminded him of bad times, like when his dad was in the hospital. 

 

That was it. 

 

His phone pinged on the charger and he picked it up. Text from Blaine. Kurt’s heart leaped in his chest. 

 

"Just got up making breakfast for coop and rae"

 

"going to beach today yay"

 

"wish you were here :) rae says hi"

 

Kurt smiled, and tapped out a response, before he jumped up and headed for the bathroom to start his morning beauty routine, suddenly feeling happier and more himself. 

 

~ * ~ * ~

 

July 2014

 

“Hey, Blaine,” Kurt said to the bright-eyed face appearing on his computer screen. “How’s the Cali life? I haven’t heard from you in a while. What’s going on there?”

 

“Hi! I’ve been having a great time! I booked a commercial, and even got a guest shot on CSI! I’m Corpse Number Three!” Blaine bounced up and down in his seat excitedly.

 

Kurt fell over on the couch laughing for nearly a minute, before managing to sit up and choke out, “They cast you as a corpse? You’re only the most animated, hyper kid I’ve ever met! I’ve never seen you sit still for more than a second at a time!” He wiped his eyes, still laughing at the thought of the liveliest person he’d ever met playing a dead body.

 

“I’ll have you know that I can play dead!” Blaine insisted with a good-natured grin. “You’ll see when it’s on. We’ll watch it together and you can admire my acting method and apologize for your lack of confidence. Cooper’s been coaching me.”

 

“Oh god.”

 

Blaine laughed. “I know. But, again, I’m just a corpse. I just have to pick an expression and hold it while the detectives look at me in the morgue. Then they’ll put me back in the drawer.”

 

“At least they’re not putting you back in the closet. Speaking of which, I hear it’s wall-to-wall hotties out there--is it as great as they say?

 

“If you’re into tall, blonde, tan guys with perfect bodies, I guess,” Blaine assented, with a coy eye-roll.

 

“So? Any action?” Kurt teased with a laugh..

 

Blaine smirked, a little smug “Well, I have been out with this one guy a bunch of times. Kind of a summer fling, I guess. His name’s Jean.”

 

Kurt stopped giggling. “Oh. Oh, you - - you met him out in L.A.?”

 

“We ran into each other randomly out here at an open call, but actually, we met before - - in New York at show choir Nationals. He was a senior and the lead singer of his show choir, ‘Throat Explosion’." Blaine made a little explosion gesture with his hands in front of his throat, and laughed. "They came in a pretty close second. It was just one point separating them from us. Jean's super talented - - and he wears bow ties too, like me! He’s from Quebec and his parents were in Cirque du Soleil, so. He’s really flexible.” 

 

Kurt felt a sharp pain in his chest. Either he was suffering a very early heart attack or he was having the most violently jealous reaction of his entire life. And considering his relationship with Finn and Rachel in high school, that was saying a lot.

 

“Kurt? Is the connection frozen?” Blaine leaned forward and tapped his computer. “The picture’s not moving - -”

 

“I have to go."

 

“Kurt? Wait - what’s the matter? Are you okay? Kurt - - are you crying?”

 

“I’m not crying. I just have to go. I’ll - - I’ll talk to you later, Blaine.”

 

Before a stunned and confused Blaine could respond, Kurt disconnected the Skype session. He was shocked at his own reaction. He was actually fighting back hurt, jealous tears. Which was ridiculous. Blaine could see whoever he wanted to. Kurt certainly didn’t care. 

 

Except he did. 

 

He did care. And in an instant of clarity, he suddenly realized exactly what he had expected and what he wanted. 

 

Blaine was supposed to be in love with Kurt, like he had been for years. Blaine was supposed to wait for Kurt until Blaine grew up and was old enough … that was supposed to be how it went. He wasn’t supposed to forget about Kurt and fall in love with some creepy French-Canadian acrobat, of all things. But now ... Blaine was moving on. 

 

And it hurt. It hurt like hell.

 

But maybe it was for the best. 

 

Blaine needed love like a flower needed sunshine. He needed it more than any person Kurt had ever met, and Blaine had so, so much love to give. It was right that he give that love to someone who could be there for him and love him back without … issues. And that wouldn’t … couldn’t be Kurt, not for a long time, if ever. 

 

Kurt resolved then and there to get a handle on his feelings. He would call Blaine back, and pretend to be happy for him and his new summer romance, no matter how much it hurt. 

 

He owed him that. . 

 

August 2014

 

“So. When am I gonna meet this boyfriend of yours? You’ve been seein’ him for how long now?” Burt demanded over breakfast souffle at the Hummel house.

 

“About a year and a half,” Kurt said, finding himself surprised at the answer. Had it really been that long? He placed a bowl of cut fruit in front of Burt and pointed at it authoritatively.

 

Burt obediently took a small piece of fruit. “Hm. And he’s never come home with you in all this time? Not even for Schuester’s wedding.”

 

Kurt fidgeted. “I guess he hasn’t, now that you mention it.”

 

“And he’s never been around when I visited you in New York, either.” Burt shrugged. “I get it. You’re embarrassed by the old man, that’s it, right? Not fancy enough for your fancy British boyfriend?”

 

“You are pretty embarrassing. Successful businessman. Congressman. Yeah, better not let him meet you,” Kurt went along with the game. “I don’t know. I hadn’t been seeing Adam very long when Mr. Schuester got married, and the only people there he would’ve known were me and the Berrys and Santana. I didn’t want to bore him with a midwestern wedding with strangers.”

 

“And since then? Why didn’t he come home with you this week?”

 

“Well …. I … I decided to come home very last-minute … Blaine ended up spending most the summer with Cooper, but he’s back here this week visiting friends and packing up his house. I thought it'd be a good time for me to visit Lima, help him out, and travel back to New York together. It’s been a long time since I saw him.”

 

Burt raised an eyebrow, and Kurt hastily added, as an afterthought, “And Rachel. She’s here too, working on the house with Blaine. I haven’t seen her all summer either … she was in out-of-town rehearsals for most of it. Thought we’d have a McKinley reunion, see the old New Directions gang. So Adam would’ve been a fifth wheel." He gnawed on a biscotti for a moment and then thought to add, "He has a job in New York anyway. He’s in a revival of Oliver! off Broadway, so he’s pretty busy.”

 

His dad looked impressed. “That’s a big deal! I saw that at the community theater a few months ago with Carole. What’s he playing? Bill Sikes? Fagin?”

 

“He’s … playing a “Londoner”. It’s a chorus part. But he’s really good in it. And he’s the understudy for the undertaker, Mr. Sowerberry. So far, the other guy's been there every performance, and Adam hasn’t had to fill in, but you never know when he might have to.”

 

“Well, that’s great,” Burt said heartily. “Good for Adam. You having any luck with auditions?”

 

Kurt hesitated, stirring some sugar into his coffee. “I haven’t really gone on any. I’ve been doing a lot at Vogue.com. Isabelle said if I worked hard this summer for her, she’d put in a word for me to get my own column. So I’ve been burning the midnight oil for her and … well …”. He twisted his lower lip and looked at Burt, debating in his mind if he should spill the news.

 

Burt looked curiously back at Kurt, prompting Kurt to set his cup down and plow ahead. “I was going to surprise you by sending you my first by-line … but Isabelle came through. My first column’s appearing online in two weeks. ‘Kurtain Kall’ - with K’s like my name - “by Kurt Hummel”. It’ll be a hip, happening commentary on young celebrity fashion - so I’ll be going to all the New York premieres and openings, and reporting on them. And once a month, I’ll get to do features on up-and-coming new stars under age twenty-five with great fashion sense. I’ll be a mover-and-shaker, hopefully. My first featured celebrity will be Rachel, of course, and it’ll have a high-fashion photo shoot to go with it as a tie-in to Funny Girl when it finally opens on Broadway. The show is finally starting its out-of-town run in a couple months. And the next month, I’m doing one on Chloe Moretz.”

 

Burt's face had grown prouder and more pleased throughout Kurt's news and the explanation of what it meant. “Kurt! That’s amazing! I have no idea who that 'Kelly Morris' is, but the whole thing is - wow. I knew you’d take New York by storm,” Burt said. “I can’t believe you were going to wait to tell me, kiddo!” He clapped a hand in Kurt's shoulder and beamed at him.

 

“I thought you’d get a kick out of seeing it ‘in print’ first. But this is better,” Kurt said, enjoying the pride and respect on his dad’s face. "I'll finish my degree of course, I love NYADA. But Vogue is looking like a career for me."

 

"Must be nice having so many talents you can choose from. I wouldn't know... for me it was just car repair."

 

"And politics. And business. And giving great advice," Kurt joshed. "Even when I don't want to hear it."

 

"Yeah. Speakin' of that. Blaine and you,” Burt said slowly, while sneaking another helping of soufflé onto his plate. “What’s that about?”

 

Kurt dropped his jaw. “What - what do you mean?”

 

“Whenever we talk on the phone, you mention Blaine more times per conversation than you’ve mentioned Adam to me … ever.”

 

“I live with Blaine. I … I see him more. And … I’m not going to talk to my dad about … about my love life, so that’s why I don’t talk as much about Adam.” He pushed his plate away.

 

“Just seems weird to me. You're always, ‘Blaine says this’ or ‘Blaine did that’," Burt said, waving his fork to and fro. He took a swig of coffee. "Meanwhile I hardly ever hear you mention Adam. In fact you don’t even say his name half the time when you do talk about him. It’s just ‘the guy I’m seeing in New York’. I didn't even know he got that Londoner part."

 

Kurt was getting pretty annoyed by his dad's homespun insightfulness. “Adam is the guy I’m seeing. Blaine is just a roommate and a friend. Not sure what you’re driving at.”

 

“Have it your way. But the way you two look at each other says different. Maybe if I meet Adam some day, I’ll see if he looks at you the way that Blaine kid does.”

 

Kurt paled. As much as he was jealous of the boys Blaine dated, and kept wishing Blaine could be his or no one else's, he didn't want to hear that. Not really. He wanted Blaine to be happy, not lovesick and suffering like... like Kurt was. Nothing could happen between them, and Blaine deserved a boyfriend his own age. 

 

"Blaine … he had a crush on me at one point." Keeping his voice steady, he recited as if saying the words made them true, “But not anymore. He sees other guys ... he’s fine. He’s over it.”

 

Burt shook his head matter-of-factly. "I ran into him at the post office yesterday. The way he looked when he asked about you tells me otherwise. He's still got it bad as ever."

 

Happiness at hearing someone say Blaine still liked him battled with guilt in Kurt's heart. “You think so?” he asked, trying to be nonchalant.

 

“It’s almost as obvious as the way you look when you talk about him. But then again, I know you a lot better than I know Blaine. What I don’t get is why you two don’t just admit how you feel about each other.”

 

Kurt picked up the breakfast dishes and took them to the sink. He started washing them.

 

"Hello? Kurt? I asked you what's the big deal about telling Blaine you like him?"

 

Kurt answered without looking at his father. “I don’t pursue a relationship with Blaine because he's four years younger than me. He’s in high school. He’s my best friend’s kid brother. He’s my roommate. Are those enough reasons for you?” He shot a glare at Burt over his shoulder.

 

Burt grunted and put up his hands in surrender. “Fine. But you admit you’d be interested if he was, say, two whole big ol' years older, and not Rachel’s brother.”

 

Kurt dropped the dish towel and snapped off the faucet. “Okay, Dear Abby, yes. I’d be all over that like white on rice, is that what you want to hear? But it doesn’t matter. He is 16 and he is Rachel’s baby brother. She's so fragile and gets so crazed where Blaine's concerned, I - - I can’t. I can’t, and it’s hard enough without having to defend it to you, Dad. I can’t go there with Blaine, it’d be wrong and hurt too many people I care about. So please. Drop it.”

 

He turned away and resumed washing the dishes.

 

“All right, kiddo. If that’ll really make you happy.” Burt got up and handed Kurt his plate, patting him on the arm. He returned to the counter and his coffee, turning up the game on the radio. 

 

Keeping his eyes trained out the kitchen window, Kurt finished washing the dishes and fought back tears of frustration and longing for something he wasn’t allowed to want.


	9. Who I Turn To

October 2014

 

Kurt mirrored his master mime class professor's movements as Adam "walked in place" beside him. Adam was a great guy. Kurt cared about him. Applying logical principles, this relationship should work - - and would work, if Kurt had anything to say about it. 

 

He’d decided to spend more time with Adam in hopes of strengthening the relationship. In fact, he had made a point of registering for all the same classes as Adam and redoubling his commitment to the Apples. He was determined to get past this infatuation with his sixteen-year-old roommate, no matter what it took. 

 

He turned to "pick a flower" and jumped with a yelp at the sight of Blaine just outside the glass paned door to the classroom, frantically gesturing for him to come outside. Kurt’s eyes bulged and he tilted his head, trying to figure out what on earth Blaine was doing here, instead of at one of his million-and-one after-school activities.

 

The professor barked, “Monsieur Hummel! Eyes on me! I should never need to express myself to you in other than the language of the human body in this class!”

 

“Er - - excuse-moi, Monsieur - - it’s just -- my friend is trying to get my attention out there - -”

 

While miming “climbing the imaginary rope”, Adam muttered, “Can’t that kid even wait until after class to bother you?”

 

“He's not bothering me,” Kurt hissed. Blaine would never interrupt class if it wasn’t important. And he was still out there, looking really upset and like this was, in fact, very important. Kurt slipped out of his row, sparing Adam a guilty look before going outside and shutting the door behind him.

 

“What is it, Blaine? Is something wrong?”

 

“Kurt … yeah. Yeah, something is wrong. Come here.” Blaine gently pulled Kurt by the wrist to a nearby hallway bench, and sat him down. He sat next to Kurt and took his hand. 

 

“I’m … I’m getting scared. What is it?”

 

Blaine winced as he answered, reluctantly, “It’s your dad. I’m so sorry. He … he had another heart attack. Carole called me and asked me to find you and tell you in person.”

 

Kurt felt the air closing in on him. He couldn’t breathe, but just sat in shock staring at Blaine.

 

“He’s alive. But … Carole said it looks... bad. The doctors said you should come home.” Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand as he choked out, “He … he may not make it.”

 

Kurt was still paralyzed, but he kept his eyes fixed on Blaine’s face. Patting a duffel bag on the bench, Blaine continued, "Here’s your bag. I packed it for you. I ordered two plane tickets home, but you have to leave now to be sure to make it.”

 

“Thank you, Blaine,” Kurt whispered hoarsely as Blaine helped him to his feet. He looked around shakily. “But where’s your bag?”

 

“I’m not going. They only had two tickets available for this flight.” Blaine stood next to Kurt, supportively stroking his back. “I’ll be there as soon as I can to help out, though.”

 

“Then … who’s the other ticket for?”

 

“Adam, of course. C'mon. Let’s call him out of class, so he can take you to the airport and go to Lima with you."

 

"You ... bought a ticket for Adam?"

 

"It was no trouble. I knew you’d want your boyfriend with you at a time like this.”

 

Kurt felt something break inside. 

 

A time like this. 

 

A time when his father was dying. 

 

His father was dying. Burt was going to die this time. He’d escaped the first heart attack. He’d beaten cancer. He couldn’t cheat death a third time; it wasn’t possible. This was the end, and Kurt knew it in his very soul.

 

“No! No, you have to come with me!” He threw his arms around Blaine’s neck. “I need you. You’ve been through this - - you know how this feels. You have to come with me and … and help me- - they’ll be telling me things and I'll need help. I need someone who knows my dad and loves him too. Please, Blaine …. please, I can’t do this without you. You’re my best friend, more than anyone, even Rachel," he sobbed. “Please.”

 

He was so upset that he hardly knew what happened next, only that somehow Blaine was supporting him down the stairs and out the door of the school, dragging the duffel bag behind them. Outside, Blaine kept Kurt standing and hailed a cab for them. The next thing Kurt knew, he was in the back seat of a yellow taxi, his face pressed against Blaine’s neck. He continued to cry in aching, burning sobs. Blaine was holding him, keeping him from flying apart into a million pieces. And ... he hadn’t told Adam he was leaving, and he didn’t care, not as long as Blaine was there to hold him tight.

 

~ * ~ * ~

 

It was a clear, sunny fall day at Lima’s town cemetery. Kurt and Blaine both carried large bouquets of flowers arranged by Kurt earlier, as they walked, quietly, through the gate. 

 

“We’ll do your mother and father first,” Kurt offered. “That section’s first on the path.” 

 

“Okay,” Blaine agreed. They headed toward a section of older graves near the gate, winding their way among them quickly. They stopped at a large headstone marked with the names of Blaine’s biological mother and father. Blaine knelt down and laid a bouquet of yellow daisies in front of the stone. Kurt helped him up and they looked down at the grave together for a long moment.

 

“What were they like?” Kurt asked softly. 

 

“I was so young,” Blaine said. “I only remember a few things now.” He smiled. “My mother was beautiful. She sang me songs in Tagalog. I still remember those songs. My dad was really tall, and he had blue eyes like Cooper’s. He used to give me piggyback rides.”

 

“Is that all you remember?”

 

Blaine paused. “The main thing that I remember is how safe I felt back then. Like they were the strongest, best people in the world and they’d never let anybody hurt me." He passed an arm through Kurt's. "You know how that was, probably, from before your mom died. When you think your parents are superheroes and will always be there."

 

Kurt couldn’t speak, but he nodded, and Blaine squeezed his hand. 

 

“C’mon, we have a lot of stops between the two of us,” Blaine murmured. He looked back at the grave, putting a hand on the stone. “Bye Mama and Dad.”

 

Kurt led Blaine by the hand to a grave a few rows over. It was his mother’s, and he laid down a spray of lilies with reverence. There was a line carved on the stone for “Burt Hummel, beloved husband and father” with a blank space for Burt’s death to be filled in someday. Kurt fervently hoped that day was still a long way off. He looked up at Blaine, who was smiling down at him. “I can't thank you enough for being here this week. I'm so happy my dad pulled through and will be okay. He’s got more lives than a cat, I guess.”

 

“I’m so glad… for your sake, of course, but for your dad’s too. He’s such an awesome guy. You’re lucky to have a dad like him, Kurt.”

 

“I know.” Kurt got up and dusted off his slacks, smiling happily. “We’d better hurry up and finish here so we can get back to the hospital for one last visit before our flight.”

 

The older part of the grounds was separated from the newer section by a wooded area, slanted shafts of light sifting down onto the path through the red and bright yellow leaves overhead. Kurt looked over at Blaine in the dappled sunshine,his heart swelling with love and admiration.Blaine turned his head and caught him looking, and Kurt fumbled for something to say. “I … I don’t know how you survived it,” he finally said. “If my dad had died, I don’t think I could be as strong as you were. I don’t think I could ever be happy again.”

 

“Sure you would,” Blaine said. “You lived through losing your mom… you managed to be happy again eventually.”

 

“But I had my dad. You - -”

 

“I had my dads, after my first parents died. I had you and Rachel after I lost my dads. If you’re willing to reach out and let yourself, you can always find love and family again. And it’s always worth it, no matter how it ends. I know what I’m talking about.”

 

Kurt suddenly realized that Blaine had pulled him to a stop in the middle of the woods as he spoke. The light was beautiful here, and Blaine was more beautiful than everas he looked earnestly into Kurt’s eyes. “Kurt, the main thing is that we live every moment of our lives like it was our last, because it could be. That we always tell the people we love how we feel, because we never know when they might stop being able to hear it. I have no regrets--my last words to my fathers, and theirs to me, were ‘I love you.’ I know it’s the same with you and your dad. I think we should live that way always, don’t you?”

 

Kurt saw that Blaine was searching his eyes, that he wanted Kurt to say something. It was obvious enough how Kurt felt, he supposed. He’d asked for Blaine, not anyone else, to be there for him at his darkest hour. Blaine had been there, holding him for hours at a time, never wavering in his support, over the last harrowing week when things had been touch-and-go. And Blaine had helped get him through it without losing his mind. 

 

Blaine was smart and intuitive, and Kurt was sure that his feelings had been read at many points over the last seven days. But they had remained unspoken, for all the reasons they had remained so since he first realized what Blaine meant to him. Because as pure as he knew his love was, he had to resist it. He had to. 

 

But it was getting harder and harder to resist.

 

They were alone in the woods now. There were no sounds except for the whispering breeze rustling the leaves on the trees, the late birds twittering overhead. No one would see them here. And everything in him wanted to take Blaine in his arms, for real, to touch him, press him up against one of the towering trees around them, and kiss him. In truth literally ached, with a desire so intense it was painful, to sink to the ground with this boy in this most inappropriate and public place, to tell him he would love him forever, to make him feel how loved he really was.

 

Blaine inched a little closer, almost touching, and Kurt felt a tingling in his hands and lips, a physical urge to close the slight gap and touch his mouth to Blaine’s.

 

Just before he was about to give in to that urge, a family of mourners rounded the bend in the path and Kurt jerked away, starting down the path again as Blaine reluctantly followed. The moment was broken.

 

They emerged from the woods into the newer section of graves. Blaine pointed toward his fathers’ graves, also marked by a single stone, and they approached it in subdued silence. Blaine went ahead, around the front of the stone, to lay down the cut lavender Kurt had chosen. When he bent down, Blaine drew a sharp breath and stared at the stone. Alarmed, Kurt came around the headstone and looked at it.

 

Kurt nearly gagged at the sight of the spray-painted slurs scrawled across the stone of the two loving husbands and fathers. His stomach twisted with sympathy and anger, and he raised his eyes to Blaine’s, searching for something to say.

 

Blaine had dropped the flowers heedlessly at his own feet and backed away, his face first pale and then red. “Those mother fucking - - I’ll - - I’ll kill whoever did this,” he gasped, his voice low and trembling, rage twisting his face. “I’ll kill them!” He was panting and shaking.

 

“Blaine,” Kurt pleaded, frightened for him. “Blaine, please, try to calm down - -”

 

“Calm down?” Blaine shouted. “Do you see what they … they fucking dared to write on my fathers’ grave? Those -- those ignorant -- sons of bitches,” he spat, turning and half-running back to the path. “The cemetery has to fix that, they have to take that off there right now,” he cried, tears of rage starting now. “And the police. I’m calling the police." He pulled the phone out of his pocket and tried to open it, but it slipped from his trembling grasp and fell on the ground. He stopped and squatted down to pick it up. 

 

Kurt caught up and knelt in front of Blaine. He looked into Blaine's eyes, holding the sides of his face. “You need to calm down first, Blaine. We’ll call the police, we will get the stone fixed, I swear, but you need to take a deep breath for me.” He took Blaine’s hands in his and kept his eyes on Blaine’s, breathing with him slowly, and to Kurt’s relief, Blaine tried to do as he advised, taking long, calming breaths and squeezing his eyes shut. Kurt kept holding his hands tight, watching him closely.

 

“How could they write that?” Blaine finally asked, his voice small. “How could anybody hate my dads? They never hurt anyone, ever. They just loved each other--so much--how could that be wrong? How could that be a reason to hate them?”

 

Kurt helped Blaine up and took him in his arms. Now wasn’t the time to hold back, fear of his own feelings be damned. Blaine needed his physical and emotional support, and he would have it.

 

He whispered in Blaine’s ear, “They’re jealous, and ignorant, and will never know that kind of love. They can’t … nobody with that much hate in their heart ever will be happy like your dads were.”

 

Blaine put his head on Kurt’s shoulder. “All they wanted was to be together, to be married and in love. That’s what everybody wants, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes. And what everybody deserves.”

 

Blaine pulled back a little, looking down sadly. “If it’s up to those people, you and I … well … we’ll never have that legally. My dads weren’t legally married and … and those people want to make sure people like you and me never are.”

 

“You will be, Blaine. You will have love like that, and you’ll have a life like they built, someday. I promise.”

 

Blaine looked into his eyes again, and this time Kurt didn’t look away. “I promise,” he whispered. “Some day.”


	10. At Last

February 2015

 

Adam tapped on his boyfriend’s door and waited, even though he had a key. He wasn’t here to see Kurt, so it did seem appropriate to knock. After a moment, he heard someone approaching inside. If he timed it right, it should be the person he was looking for. The door opened to reveal Blaine Berry, wearing a short-sleeved polo shirt so bright yellow it almost hurt to look at it, matching capri pants, a bow tie, and a pair of boat shoes with yellow peds for socks. This utterly absurd, preppy little boy was Adam’s competition. Adam stood and simply surveyed him for a moment without a greeting. Notebook and pen in one hand, Blaine held the door ajar with the other and blinked back at him. Finally, the boy broke the silence. 

 

“Um … I think maybe you and Kurt got your signals crossed. He always goes to Vogue.com on Thursday afternoons. He won’t be home for another three hours at least,” Blaine said politely, glancing at his watch.

“I’m not here to see him,” Adam said, brushing past Blaine into the apartment. Turning around, he added, “I’m here to see you.”

 

Blaine looked increasingly confused. “Me? What for?” He shut the door and laid his notebook and pen neatly on the desk beside an open textbook. “Is this about Kurt’s 21st birthday next week? Are you planning a surprise for him and need my help?” His eyes lit up in excitement at the prospect.

 

Damn. It. Adam had forgotten Kurt’s birthday was next week. “No, Blaine, it’s not about my boyfriend’s birthday. Is anyone else here, or can we talk freely?”

 

Blaine crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “It’s just me." After another lengthy pause, he asked, "Are you going to tell me what this is about or make me guess? Because I have a lot of homework to get done, and then I’ll have to start dinner for Kurt and me. He likes to have it on the table already when he gets in.”

 

Adam exploded. “That’s it! That’s exactly what I’m here to talk about, Blaine, thank you. There’s no Kurt and you. You’re roommates. That's all. You need to understand what your role is in his life -- and it’s not as Kurt’s little housewife making him dinner.”

 

Blaine’s big brown eyes made him look like a confused baby seal. And like Adam was clubbing him, when it was Adam who should be upset here. Blaine said plaintively, “I don’t know what you’re even talking about. Why are you so mad that I’m eating dinner with Kurt?"

 

"We both know why.” Adam felt his eyes bulging at Blaine, and was all the more frustrated by the blank, uncomprehending look Blaine returned. “It’s because you want to come between me and Kurt!” Adam finally yelled, getting in Blaine’s personal space and looking as intimidating as he knew how, which wasn’t very, but he was a lot older and bigger so he hoped it was effective enough. “I know you have feelings for him, and want to steal him from me, or some such nonsense. You need to realize that it won’t happen and back off. You’re only wasting your time and making a fool of yourself." 

 

He tapped Blaine firmly on the chest for emphasis, and the boy looked down a moment where Adam's index finger had jabbed. Adam felt another twinge of guilt, but he was only trying to protect his relationship, and of course he would never resort to actual violence, so- -

 

But then Blaine looked up again. And didn’t look frightened, or guilty, or upset in the slightest. The sad baby seal look was definitely gone.

 

“You - you came here to tell me to back off? Not to try to get Kurt away from you?” Blaine asked breathlessly. His face was alight with pure, radiant joy, and he clasped his hands under his chin like a little boy outside a candy store window. “You think I could steal Kurt!” he gasped. “You’re afraid I will!! That means - - you think - - “

 

“Blaine, calm down,” Adam said, annoyed, but Blaine was not calming down. He started flapping his hands and trembling all over; he was panting and red-cheeked, and his eyes were downright starry.

 

“You’re jealous, and you’re threatened by me!” Blaine shouted triumphantly, pointing both outstretched arms at Adam as he backed away. Adam tried to respond but Blaine tossed his arms overhead and gave a victory whoop, before making a running leap over the back of the couch, almost tripping, to get to his room. He turned at the entrance to his room, spun all the way around and literally jumped for joy, before grabbing a garishly patterned, very expensive blazer from his rack and racing back past Adam. 

 

“Where are you going? This conversation isn’t over,” Adam insisted, starting to feel desperate. 

 

“Yeah it is,” Blaine said, still grinning from ear to ear while he pulled on the jacket. “And I can’t sit here, I’m too -- I have to - - I have to run it off, I have to - - “ 

 

Blaine was still nearly vibrating with excitement as he grabbed his keys from a bowl by the door. Before Adam could stop him, Blaine hurled open the door and tore down the hallway, Adam left stunned in his wake. 

 

Adam went to the window. Watching Blaine running down the street at full tilt into the distance, jumping up onto stoops and hugging startled passersby, Adam sighed. That did not go well. At all. 

 

* * *  
Kurt trudged home, exhausted from a long day of drama school and high fashion. But it was a good exhaustion, the kind that comes from living your wildest dreams to the fullest. He shut the door behind him and sniffed the air appreciatively. Blaine had been cooking something amazing, and Kurt saw that the table was nicely set for two with candles and all their best china and flatware and flowers. 

 

“Hey, Blaine, everything smells great!” he shouted, opening a pot lid on the stove.

 

Blaine burst out of the bathroom and hurried over. “Sit down! Don’t lift a finger. I’ve got it,” Blaine protested. He looked happy and especially handsome today, his eyes and skin glowing as if lit from within. Blaine smiled as he pulled out a chair and gestured to it. 

 

“It’s a little dark in here, isn’t it?” Kurt asked, looking curiously up at the dimmed light fixture as he sat down. Blaine didn’t seem to hear him.

 

“I made something from that French cookbook you got at the antique bookstore last week,” Blaine said, busily placing the food on the table. “And I picked up a cheesecake for you. Your favorite.”

 

“That was really sweet of you, but I hate to think you wasted your time on all this trouble. Midterms are coming up ..."

 

“I don’t mind,” Blaine said warmly as he sat down and picked up his napkin. Their eyes met and held for a moment, Blaine’s soft and sweet, and Kurt blushed, looking away. It wasn’t just dark in here, it was getting a little hot. He took a gulp from his water glass.

 

They continued dinner, talking and joking, but there was something charged in the atmosphere. Blaine was giving Kurt frequent shy glances, and even though they weren’t touching, he was sitting much closer than he usually did during their dinners together. Kurt was acutely aware of his friend’s physical presence, and of Blaine's knee a few inches away from his. “Is there a leaf missing from this table?” he asked, his voice coming out higher than usual. Blaine shrugged, and reached across the table. Kurt jumped at the sudden movement, and Blaine looked up.

 

"You done with your entree? I can take that and put it in the sink for you.”

 

Kurt nodded breathlessly. Blaine took the dinner plates to the sink and bustled around a moment cutting the cake and garnishing the slices the way Kurt had shown him, with berries and a drizzle of chocolate syrup. Finally, he leaned over Kurt’s shoulder to place a dessert plate in front of him. 

 

Kurt felt Blaine’s free hand lightly rest on his shoulder. Without thinking, he reached up and gripped it. They both froze.

 

Kurt's cellphone on the table abruptly blared “Baby Got Back” and flashed his boyfriend’s picture. Startled, Kurt jumped up, shaking off Blaine’s hand and grabbing his phone. 

 

“Hey, what’s up, Buttercup?” Adam’s voice sounded, loudly, over the phone. Blaine was standing by Kurt’s abandoned chair looking adorably worried, and Kurt gave him a guilty look. 

 

“Nothing. Nothing, just having dinner with Blaine.” He took the phone and walked quickly, avoiding Blaine’s eyes, toward his own curtained-off room. 

 

“Oh. Did he … did he say anything … interesting happened today?” Adam asked.

 

Kurt frowned. “What do you mean, interesting? What are you getting at?”

 

“Nothing. Just - never mind. Look, I haven’t seen you in days. I feel like lately when we talk … I don’t know. Something’s off, Kurt. Am I doing something wrong? I feel like we’re drifting apart.”

 

Shutting his eyes, Kurt breathed in deeply. Things were becoming strained and awkward between him and Adam, not least because he was fighting real feelings for Blaine. But even without that, their relationship had gotten ... stale. Maybe he had been trying too hard, for the wrong reasons. He just didn’t know how to tell Adam that without hurting his feelings. 

 

“Kurt?”

 

“I’m here.”

 

“I think we need some quality time together. And not at your place. Can you pack a few things and come on over? Spend tonight and the weekend with me?”

 

“I don’t know …. Blaine’s alone here, we were having dinner - - “

There was a strained pause, during which Kurt knew he had just made a tactical error.

 

“Kurt, Blaine will be fine on his own. C’mon. I’m your boyfriend, and I need you. Please.”

 

Kurt looked out through the curtain and saw Blaine anxiously sitting at the table by himself, his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the tabletop. He felt a surge of panic. He had to get out of here. He needed to be away from Blaine, from his adoring, worshipful eyes and his beautiful mouth and … he needed to work on his adult relationship. He’d gotten over-involved with Blaine, enjoyed Blaine’s obvious interest in him, a little too much. He’d let his real relationship grow stagnant. This … forbidden mutual crush or fantasy whatever the heck he and Blaine had going ... was wrong and inappropriate. He'd promised Rachel long ago not to let this happen and he needed to put a stop to it. He owed that to Blaine, to Adam, and--yes--to himself. 

 

“Kurt?”

 

“I’ll be over in half an hour. Bye."

 

"Kurt. I love you."

 

"I -- I'll see you soon." He hung up.

 

He grabbed a Louis Vuitton overnight bag from under his bed, stuffing clothes and toiletries into it. Blaine came to the curtain and stood watching him.

 

“Going on a trip?”

 

“Um, just going to spend a few days at Adam’s.”

 

“Oh … but … I had a surprise,” Blaine said. He held out two tickets hopefully, like an offering. “There’s a Noel Coward retrospective playing tonight at ten at the art theater. I know you love him, so I picked these up and - -”

 

“It’s Thursday night, Blaine,” Kurt snapped. “You know your curfew is ten on school nights.”

 

Blaine drew back, looking stung. 

 

Kurt steadied his voice, and looked away while zipping up the overnight bag. “I’m sorry, but the answer is no. You need to get up early for school, and I have other plans with my boyfriend,” he said, trying to sound firm. He avoided Blaine’s eyes, hating himself, but he had to do this. “I need to get going now, so I can get to Adam’s before it’s too late. Do you mind taking care of the dishes?”

 

There was a silence that lengthened painfully before he finally looked up. Blaine looked deeply hurt and disappointed. After another awful, silent moment, Blaine turned and stalked to his room without a word.

 

Kurt felt his heart ache inside, felt it beating against his ribcage as if it were trying to escape, like a fluttering bird, and join Blaine’s. Why did it feel like their hearts belonged together when they … just couldn’t? He knew Blaine still loved him. He’d seen it in Blaine’s eyes. If Kurt gave in to temptation, he could say the word and be with Blaine. He could let himself be loved back by his best friend who made him laugh, who supported and understood him, and who challenged him despite their age gap. 

 

That gap seemed so hypertechnical now, with Blaine a junior in high school and so mature for his age, and it was the same, totally acceptable age gap he had in reverse with Adam, but he had to remember that Blaine was only sixteen. And not just any sixteen-year old; he was his friend’s brother and his roommate. If he crossed that line, Blaine’s overprotective, emotionally fragile sister would see it as the ultimate betrayal. And if Kurt went there and it didn’t work out, it would turn Blaine’s world upside down. It would be wrong and it could hurt Blaine and Rachel, two people he would rather die than hurt.

 

He picked up his bag and walked away.

 

* * *

 

“Ouch, Killer. Sorry.” Sebastian was lounging casually on Blaine’s bed listening to his roller-coaster of a day. “Look, I’ve seen ol' Kurt “love of your life” Hummel with Crawford at NYADA and out around town. I think he’s really trying to make that relationship work, I hate to tell you.”

 

“Does he seem happy, though?” Blaine asked wistfully, taking a pull on a bottle of the expensive beer Sebastian had brought over. "I don't think so ... I really don't. I think he wants to be with me. But am I kidding myself?"

 

Sebastian studied Blaine’s sensitive profile. He liked Blaine, a lot. He liked talking to him, almost as much as he liked looking at him and imagining how hot he’d be in bed. Sebastian had never stopped wanting to add Blaine to his list of conquests … and even give Blaine the honor of being his first actual boyfriend of more than twenty minutes. 

 

But Sebastian had backed off when he turned eighteen and especially when Blaine’s parents had died. Even he had some scruples. They had settled into a comfortable, close platonic friendship. Unfortunately when Sebastian had renewed his seduction attempts during a Warbler reunion in Ohio after Blaine finally turned sixteen, he had gotten the old “I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship” line. Which really sucked.

 

Sebastian sighed, peeling the label on his beer. “I don’t know, Blaine. He looks like he’s settling, to be honest. Or maybe deflecting his feelings. Based on what Sir Plagiarizes-a-Lot did to you this afternoon, the boyfriend is nervous about you." He shrugged and admitted, grudgingly, "Look, I’ve seen how Kurt looks at you. I think he's got the hots for you."

 

Blaine looked thrilled for a moment, then depressed again. “I think so too, Sebastian. He acts like it. But if he does, why does he keep backing off at the last minute and going back to Adam? Why won’t he give us a chance?”

 

“Well, if you really want my opinion - - “

 

“Oh, I do, Seb, or I wouldn’t ask. Tell me what you think,” Blaine said earnestly.

 

Sebastian pointed his beer at Blaine. “Was that what you were wearing for your little romantic dinner?”

 

Blaine looked down, an adorable wrinkle between his dark eyebrows. “Yeah, what’s wrong with it?”

 

“Nothing. It’s great! Very colorful, and very coordinating. Did you get it from the Garanimals collection?”

 

Blaine flushed, and Sebastian thought again how cute and hot this kid was. The loft was empty and here they were, sitting in bed together, fully dressed, and Sebastian was giving advice on how to impress another guy. What the hell, Smythe.

 

“These are Brooks Brothers,” Blaine said, with an attempt at dignity. “They are classics.”

 

Sebastian raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Maybe if you got them in normal colors. As it is, you look like the yellow Teletubby. That’s no way to get Kurt to stop thinking of you as a kid. You have to start looking and acting more like an adult.”

 

“Well, what do you want me to do? Grow a beard and go around the loft doing my taxes?”

 

“No, dummy, but a little sexy scruff sure wouldn't hurt. And some new clothes, a hot new look." 

 

“And then what? Serenade him again? That went horrible the last time. Or is that what you’re hoping?”

 

Sebastian paused. What was that weird emotion rising up? It felt kind of uncomfortable and bad. Like he suddenly didn’t like himself as much as he usually did. Could this be .... guilt? Yet another unfamiliar feeling that Blaine Anderson-Berry evoked. 

 

He looked sheepishly at Blaine. “So you know I was being a douche back at Dalton, that time I let you sing him that dirty song at the Lima Bean?”

 

“I kind of figured it out when you came by afterwards to try and ‘console’ me -- and a full-size bottle of lube fell out of your pocket when Rachel took your coat. My dads nearly had matching strokes.”

 

Sebastian squirmed. “I’m really sorry about that whole incident … but this is different. I’m really trying to help you out as a friend. Also, it's obvious you’ll never fuck me, until you get this hard-on for Kurt out of your system. So I’ll help you get him. That’s how great a friend I am. And step one is to make you over."

 

Blaine looked doubtful. “I’m really not sure about changing to try to get Kurt. I want him to like the real me."

 

Rolling his eyes, Sebastian cracked open a second beer and thought the situation over. Anyone could see Kurt was definitely interested and probably only needed a tiny bit more incentive, a little push in the right direction. He clearly was hung up on the age thing, which was ridiculous at this point. Blaine was no innocent babe in the woods. Sebastian knew that Blaine had fooled around at NYADA Prep with a few random gay and bi boys, and had even started experimenting a little back at Dalton. 

 

If Kurt could just see that Blaine wasn’t some child, but rather a hot piece of very fine ass that anybody would want and should tap … well, more than likely this standoff between Blainers and Kurt would ‘climax’ as it were. Once Blaine got this itch scratched, he’d probably be a lot better off and realize Kurt was nothing special. The fantasy would run its course. 

 

And at some point after that, hopefully, Blaine would start to appreciate Sebastian’s own considerable charms and attractions. Sebastian was nothing if not a long-term strategist. But how to get Kurt’s head out of his ass and get this over with? Especially when Blaine was so stubborn about staying true to himself or some such nonsense?

 

Sebastian continued mulling it over while inching a hand down Blaine’s thigh, smiling when Blaine slapped it away as usual. He had seen seen Kurt “Betty White” Hummel and his Mr. Belvedere boyfriend out and about town. They had a routine, from what he'd heard at NYADA, and went most Fridays to a certain happening gay club in the Village, with great music and just the right atmosphere for hookups. And Sebastian had a friend who could get him and Blaine in. He grinned to himself, then let it subside when he saw Blaine’s suspicious face.

 

“That’s not very proactive, but I respect that you gotta be you. Anyway, even you have to admit that sulking here all weekend is a bad idea and won’t make things any better. Tell you what. Let's go to sleep now. But tomorrow morning, after you make me brunch, we're going shopping. And tomorrow night, you're going to let me dress you up all sexy and take you clubbing to see how much attention you'll get. It'll be fun."

 

"You mean you want me to be your gay wingman. Well, I guess dancing sounds fun. Okay."

 

"You won't regret it, Killer."

 

* * * *

 

Kurt trailed into the club behind Adam. He was trying his best to get into the spirit of the evening. As he saw it, their problem was that they didn’t really have much to say to each other anymore, or that much in common. The relationship wasn't going anywhere. Spending time out where they wouldn’t have to talk was no real solution, but he was willing to give it a try if that was what Adam wanted. After this much time together, he supposed he owed Adam that. And maybe being out of the loft with Adam would help redirect his attention where it should be, on his boyfriend and away from his unfairly attractive and forbidden roommate. 

 

Like every Friday, the club was packed with half-dressed, good-looking men grinding up on each other. The music was pounding and the lights blinding, all the better to discourage conversation and encourage anonymous hookups, some of which were taking place right on the dance floor. Kurt sighed, bored and turned off from all of it. He turned to Adam to try and shout over the din that they should just go, find someplace to sit and talk, but Adam shouted first: “Let me try to get to the bar! Your usual?”

 

“Sure,” Kurt said, giving up. Lately when he and Adam tried to spend time anywhere alone, things got awkwardly quiet, and even Adam's impressions were getting less and less … impressive. Kurt had realized that Adam's repertoire was limited to doing a British accent, which he already had. Maybe it was best that they stay here where conversation wasn’t necessary. Of course, he and Blaine had known each other for years, since they were five and nine years old, and somehow never ran out of things to say to each other. But that didn't make Blaine any less underage or any less Rachel's kid brother. 

 

“Get us a seat someplace private!” Adam shouted, gesturing toward the back corner where there were some dimly lit couches. 

 

Kurt smiled as brightly as he could, and shouldered his way through the crowd to the sitting area. He inspected the couches for signs of bodily fluid before sitting down on the one with the best view of the rest of the club.

 

Craning his neck, he saw that the crowd was three deep around the bar. Looked like Adam would be a while. Turning to watch the dance floor, he perked up at the sight of some very promising new talent he hadn’t seen around on previous Fridays. He craned his neck to watch. It was a dark-haired, slim young man who reminded him vaguely of Blaine, sandwiched between two other men, dancing with total abandon, hands raised and clasped overhead, his head thrown back and his dress shirt and vest gaping open to the waist. Nice, he thought appreciatively, leaning forward for a better look. 

 

A strobe light passed over the dancing hottie’s face and he caught his breath. It was Blaine. His Blaine, here, at his and Adam’s club, dancing with two other men like it was his job. He seemed different here … grown up and so, so beautiful with his dark curly hair wild around his face, sporting a day and a half’s worth of dark stubble, and his eyes lined in smudged black kohl. Kurt couldn’t take his eyes off him. He edged forward in his seat, and licked his lips. Blaine’s dancing was a peculiar mixture of his usual joyful innocence and something new … something sultry and wild. Kurt bit his lip and kept watching and admiring from the shadows, his heart melting at the sight of the boy he adored, even from afar when he wasn’t allowed to approach and had to see him grinding up against other boys. 

 

And then Blaine turned to look at him directly, clearly catching him staring. Kurt’s eyes widened in alarm, and a very naughty grin spread over Blaine’s face. 

 

Kurt swallowed, willing his rational mind to make an appearance, finally. Blaine was not supposed to be out at a club. He was not old enough. He probably bought a fake ID to get in here. He should be reprimanded and sent home immediately. Rachel would be furious if she knew what he was up to.

 

All of that was true. And it was also true that Blaine looked sexier than anything Kurt had ever seen in his life. 

 

Kurt felt his heart racing wildly as Blaine disentangled himself from his partners - one of whom was Sebastian, Kurt realized with a pang of rageful, possessive jealousy - and started sauntering over Kurt’s way. Kurt began to panic.

 

Go home, Blaine. Go home. Don’t come over here! Stop being so hot!

 

Blaine bounded up to him with a blinding, heart stopping smile, his eyes sparkling. “Hey, Kurt. What are you doing here all by your lonesome?” Kurt went blank and completely hard all at once. His mouth opened but no words could find their way to his brain, with all the blood in his body rushing south, and he sat staring at his friend with his mouth gaping open like an idiot.

 

Still grinning, Blaine reached out and grabbed Kurt's hand before he could explain that he was there with Adam. “C’mon, dance with me!” Blaine shouted, pulling him to a stand. 

 

Blaine led him out onto the very middle of the dance floor, and before he could collect his wits, Kurt was dancing to an old school Justin Timberlake song with the one boy in the world that he wanted above all others, the one boy he was most forbidden to touch. The beat of the music throbbed in time with his racing heart, and the club's heat brought a flush and dampness to their skin. The crowd pressed in around them, and somehow he found himself up against Blaine’s bare chest through his open shirt. Blaine’s arms tangled around his neck, and Kurt’s arms were for some reason around Blaine’s waist, hands stroking Blaine's back under the loose tails of his shirt. 

 

They fit together perfectly, moved together perfectly. Why was it so perfect, god - - what about Adam, what about Rachel - - Blaine nestled his face against Kurt’s cheek, then moved his mouth lower, soft lips and rough stubble pressed against Kurt's neck. Their dancing slowed to a sway, their arms tightening around one another. 

 

And then … the unmistakable sensation of Blaine audaciously licking a stripe of the sweaty skin just under Kurt's ear. Kurt felt a jolt of electricity. 

 

As nice, as sweet, as pleasant as Adam was in all areas including the bedroom, Kurt had never been this turned on in his life. Without thinking, he seized a handful Blaine’s silky dark curls at the nape of his neck and jerked, yanking Blaine’s face up, and looked into his eyes. Blaine’s mouth dropped in surprise as Kurt pulled the boy’s head forward, claiming Blaine’s open mouth with his own. Blaine made a tiny gasp at the first touch of his lips, but quickly recovered, sliding his tongue along Kurt’s lower lip and moaning into a wet, sloppy, searching kiss. Kurt ran his fingers gently through Blaine’s tangled hair, smiling a little at the taste of diet Dr. Pepper, Blaine’s ridiculous favorite drink, still lingering on his soft lips. He passed an arm around Blaine’s neck to bring him closer, and thrilled when Blaine stood on tiptoe and pressed his entire body, hot and warm and hard, against his.

 

Finally kissing Blaine at last felt like so many different things all at once. It felt like coming home at last after a long trip, and falling into your own bed again with relief. It felt like gulping down a long drink of cold water after nearly dying of thirst. It felt like finding another half of himself that he'd never known was missing. He was conscious of only one thing, and that was the need to pull Blaine as close as he could, to taste every part of him, to feel him and to hear the sounds Blaine made when he did. They melted into one being at that moment, everything else blurring into the background. The entire world felt like it shrank down to just the two of them.

 

Kurt vaguely realized Blaine was guiding him toward the edge of the dance floor with gentle nudges of his hips, into a dim corner. It was dark, it was noisy, it was hot, and somehow Blaine was kissing him slow and sweet and deep and gentle all at once, holding Kurt’s face with both hands, his fingers stroking softly. Kurt held on for dear life, gripping Blaine’s tiny waist with the flat palms of both hands as hard and tight as he could. He couldn’t get close enough. There was no such thing as close enough. 

 

Then, still kissing him feverishly, Blaine slipped one hand from Kurt’s face and down between their tightly pressed-together bodies, and fumbled at Kurt’s belt buckle. 

 

Kurt came to his senses suddenly and grabbed Blaine’s hand, pulling away from Blaine’s kiss. Kurt leaned his cheek against Blaine’s newly rough, stubbled face, and panted heaving breaths, trying to regain control. He wasn’t able to speak yet; he was too overwhelmed and confused, but after a moment he looked squarely in Blaine’s face and shook his head. He let go and turned around - - to face a furious Adam holding two frozen strawberry daiquiris.

 

Adam’s face was dark with anger. “You little asshole,” he hissed at Blaine, stepping forward, and flinging the two brightly colored drinks at them both. Instinctively, Kurt shoved Blaine out of the way and took the entire chilly onslaught in his own face. 

 

Kurt spluttered, and for a moment he felt like he was back at McKinley with the melting red ice dripping down his face and neck, and the crowd pointing at him. But unlike his many high school slushyings, there was an added painful sting from the rum and lime juice, and from the uncomfortable fact that he probably deserved it this time.

 

Without a word, Adam stalked off, and Blaine, apparently unaware of his height and weight disadvantage, hurled himself furiously toward Adam’s retreating form. Kurt caught Blaine around his waist, holding him back, and shouted frantically over the din of the music. "No, Blaine! It’s okay – just give me a minute, please, I need to talk to him.”

 

Blaine turned in his arms and stared at him. Shaking his head, he pulled back a step. Kurt reached out and laid a hand on Blaine's face for a moment. “It’s okay. I’ll be back in a minute to talk about ... what just happened."

 

Kurt scrubbed at his dripping face with his handkerchief as he chased and caught up with Adam at the door of the club. “Adam, wait,” he begged, while Adam shrugged his way into his coat at coat check. 

 

“Find your own way home,” Adam snarled, and Kurt stared, shocked again. Adam’s eyes suddenly looked tired. “What in the bloody hell was that, Kurt? How long have you been fucking that kid?”

 

“No! It’s - - it’s not like that - - nothing’s happened between us until just now. I lost my head somehow. I haven’t cheated on you with him. I swear.”

 

Adam retrieved his beanie from his coat pocket and pulled it on. “That’s a lie.” He waved a hand at Kurt’s spluttered protests. “I don’t mean about sleeping with him. I'm talking about what's been happening between you emotionally. You just haven’t admitted it … not to me, maybe not even to yourself. ” 

 

Kurt wanted to deny it. He really did, for so many reasons. But his heart wouldn’t cooperate with his brain or his mouth, and he stood there struggling with what to say. The best he could come up with was a feeble, “I didn’t want to hurt anybody.”

 

Adam smiled sadly. “I know. Goodbye, Kurt.”

 

Kurt whispered goodbye to Adam, and then turned to look for Blaine. He was surprised to see him standing ten or fifteen feet away, at the edge of the dance floor, watching intently. He started toward Blaine and was surprised again when the boy brushed past him, heading to the coat check and flinging a ticket down along with a ten dollar bill. Kurt hurried over. He set down his ticket and fumbled for a tip. “You’re leaving?” 

 

Blaine nodded as his coat was handed over the counter. 

 

“Wait. We have to talk,” Kurt said, grabbing his coat and following Blaine out the door.

 

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I don’t feel like dancing anymore. I want to go home.”

 

“Listen, please,” Kurt pleaded, shivering in the cold in his clammy, Daiquiri-soaked shirt.

 

“I’ve had it, Kurt.” Blaine turned and stared him down. “You look at me like you feel something for me. You give me every reason to think you do -- and then, it’s all ‘go away little boy’ and ‘you misunderstood’. I’m not in the mood for your weird games anymore!”

 

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Kurt protested. “I wanted to tell you that I do care. A lot. But –“

 

Blaine shook his head disgustedly and started down the street, and all Kurt could think was to hell with it, with everything. He could make this work, he could, he had to, because he couldn’t let Blaine walk away thinking he didn’t want him. 

 

He caught up with Blaine in a few long strides and grabbed him by the arm, backing him up against a nearby store window, placing his hands on the smooth, cold glass on either side of Blaine’s head and trying to look into Blaine’s sullen, hurt eyes.

 

“Listen, will you? I’m trying to explain. I do have strong feelings for you. And I want us to explore that.”

 

Blaine’s eyebrows flew up, and to Kurt’s utter surprise, the boy cracked a cocky grin. “Well, maybe you should ask me on a date, then. You know, woo me. I’m not some floozy or sure thing. I deserve wooing.”

 

Kurt bit his lip to smother a smile. Blaine, it seemed, knew what he was doing more than Kurt realized. And his take-charge attitude was hot as hell, too. “Yes. You do deserve that. Which fits in well with what I have to say next. We – can’t be intimate.”

 

“Tempting offer,” Blaine deadpanned. “But Kurt, all that’s just silly. We can be like a normal couple. I’ve had sex before, if that’s what’s worrying you. You won’t be despoiling me or anything.”

 

Jealousy surged up in Kurt’s heart and he shook his head to clear it. Considering that he’d been parading Adam around in Blaine’s face up until, oh, five minutes ago, he couldn’t very fairly be jealous or upset that Blaine had experimented with a few boys before. 

 

Blaine seemed to misunderstand his silence, continuing, “I mean, I get what you’re saying and I agree, we shouldn’t rush things … you’re special to me and I want to make this work, and our first time should mean something and all that, but why are you making such a big deal about this? Can’t we just play it by ear?”

 

“You’re too young, Blaine. It’d be wrong. Illegal, even.”

 

Blaine looked relieved and shook his head reassuringly. “Is that what's worrying you? It's totally fine! I’m sixteen. That’s legal! Sebastian told me when we flew back to Ohio for Warbler Weekend right after my birthday.” Kurt heart clenched as he wondered how that topic came up, and if that meant that Sebastian had finally succeeded in seducing Blaine. But he shook that off, and kept on the topic at hand. 

 

“That's just it. You’re legal in Ohio. This is New York. The legal age of consent is 17 here.”

 

“You’re kidding me,” Blaine blurted, clearly shocked and disappointed. Kurt shook his head, and Blaine looked away for a moment.

 

When he looked back at Kurt, the sly smile was back. “You researched this issue? Was it for some other sixteen year old you’re perving on, or because you were wondering about you and me? It was for you and me, wasn’t it! It was!” he squealed, all delighted smiles.

 

Kurt shoved Blaine slightly. “Stop that. This is serious. Are you willing to keep the hands north of the equator until your next birthday?”

 

Blaine looked thoughtful. . “Well, that leaves a lot of leeway. For mouths and genitals, that is. I can manage hands-free if I have to.”

 

“You know what I mean, wise guy. Do you agree that we keep it G-rated?”

 

“Wait. Are you asking me to be your boyfriend? For real, and official, exclusive boyfriends?” Blaine asked. 

 

“Yes. Blaine, I care about you and if you feel the same way, I’d like us to be a couple. Understanding two things.”

 

Blaine was nuzzling happily at Kurt’s neck already, making Kurt’s attempt to sound stern a bit difficult. “Two things now? Well whatever it is, it can’t be worse than blue balls until June. Shoot," he murmured against Kurt's skin.

 

“The first one is we keep it clean until you’re legal. The other is - - we can’t tell anybody.”

 

“Oh.” Blaine stepped away from the embrace, looking completely crestfallen. “You’re -- you’re ashamed of me.”

 

“No. God -- no, Blaine - - I’m so proud of you, and … and I hate that we’re having this conversation right now when all I want to do is hold you and tell you how great you are and make out with you,” Kurt hastened to reassure him. “But it’s necessary. Your sister won’t approve of this. You know that, and she’s under so much pressure at work, and that fight with Santana. Not to mention Funny Girl having those financial problems and the New York opening being delayed and having to go back on the road with the show soon, and having to drop out of NYADA … and that ugly breakup with that prostitute Brody, and with … with my brother missing in Afghanistan. God, and she’s never completely recovered from losing your dads. She can’t deal with a big upheaval right now. She can’t. She'll lose what little sanity she has left." 

 

Blaine looked concerned at that. Kurt continued, "We should just keep this between us until she’s feeling a little stronger, or at least until after opening night of her play.” Kurt drew a breath, and Blaine nodded thoughtfully. 

 

“And until we know things will really work out for us, too,” Blaine added with a short sigh. Kurt felt his heart dip a little at Blaine’s statement, the way his stomach always did when coasting down a certain hill in Lima in the backseat of his dad’s car. He knew even more than ever, after tasting Blaine’s lips just once, that Blaine was everything for him and always would be. But Blaine was right, of course. There were no guarantees, another reason why keeping it to themselves, at least at first, made sense.

 

“Okay, I accept your terms. No hanky panky, and no Facebook relationship updates. Now ask me out. Go on. Commence wooing.” Despite the teasing words, Blaine looked up through his long eyelashes, shy and happy and blushing.

 

Kurt took Blaine’s hand in his formally, pressing it to his heart. “Blaine, may I have the honor of taking you out to dinner and a movie tomorrow night?”

 

“Well, that’s kind of short notice,” Blaine teased again, and collapsed into giggles under Kurt’s tickling hands. “Stop it! I give. No more teasing.” He turned in Kurt’s arms and looked deeply into his eyes now, the open, sweet face full of adoration and love and pure happiness. “I’d love to go out with you anytime and be your boyfriend. I’m so happy, Kurt. You’ve made me the happiest guy in the world. I lo—“ Blaine flushed, and cut off abruptly, and Kurt now quirked a teasing eyebrow. 

 

“I’m looking forward to it so much,” Blaine finished. He stretched up and softly touched his lips to Kurt’s, and the world and all the problems that might await them dissolved away.

r03;r03;r03;r03;r03;~ * ~  
They made out in the elevator on the way up to the loft, pulling away reluctantly when the door pinged open. Fingers lightly linked, they walked as slowly as possible toward the loft door. “This is the best night of my life,” Blaine leaned over and whispered, as Kurt fumbled for the key, his fingers suddenly clumsy. Before he could turn the key in the lock, the door was yanked open. They quickly let go of each other’s hands. Rachel was standing in the doorway in her pink fuzzy robe and slippers, eyes narrowed.

 

Rachel let them past her and locked the door behind them. She ran her eyes coolly over Blaine’s skintight leather pants and loose bowtie. “Okay then, let's get to it. What the hell are you doing out at this hour? And what on earth are you wearing? Is that eyeliner?”

 

“I was at a nightclub," Blaine admitted brazenly.

 

Rachel focused on Blaine a moment, then turned to Kurt, standing in front of him toe to toe and demanding, “You and your boyfriend took a sixteen-year-old to a nightclub, dressed like that? What were you thinking? And what’s all over your shirt? You smell like you fell in a vat of cough syrup. What kind of club was this, anyway?”

 

“It - it was my regular club, I - I just spilled my drink.”

 

“In your hair, too?” Rachel asked, her eyebrows lifted. She reached up and crunched a sugary lock of his hair between her fingers. “You look like you got slushied! But this isn’t answering my question. Why did you two decide to bring my baby brother to a bar?”

 

Blaine inserted his face between them. “He didn’t take me. He happened to be there with Adam, and we ran into each other. He took me home.”

 

Rachel threw an apologetic look at Kurt, squeezing his arm. “Oh... Of course ... Kurt, I should have known you were more responsible than that. I'm sorry I doubted you. But Blaine, you’re underage, and you have no business going to a club. You used a fake ID, didn’t you?”

 

“I just used the ID to get in so I could dance. I didn’t drink anything stronger than soda. You went into clubs with fake IDs plenty,” Blaine pointed out. 

 

“Not alone, and not at sixteen, I didn't. Why were you sneaking out in the middle of the night? To pick up strange men again? Have you forgotten what Kurt and I told you about being careful? Do you know how badly you could be hurt by someone out alone in one of those places?”

 

"Sebastian was with me--"

 

"Oh like that makes a difference. In fact, that explains a lot. You've been hanging around with that bad influence entirely too much lately. That's it. You can't see him anymore."

 

"I'm not seeing Sebastian! He’s my friend! My best friend, after Kurt! And you can't stop me from being friends with whoever I want to!"

 

Kurt looked uneasily between the bickering siblings. He gnawed on a thumbnail despite his brand new manicure.

 

"There's something seriously wrong with a college student like him constantly panting after a kid your age, and now he's bringing you to that meat market Kurt goes to? No offense, Kurt."

 

Kurt was speechless.

 

Rachel's ranting was gaining momentum. "I guess since you've proven once again that you're untrustworthy and falling in with a bad crowd, you need to be grounded for the foreseeable future. At least then I won't have to worry about what you're up to or what could happen to you."

 

Blaine exploded. “Nothing’s going to happen, Rachel! I just went out for some fun. Why do you always have to do this? You get so crazy --“

 

“Stop it, Blaine!” Rachel shouted suddenly, her face strained. Blaine trailed off, uncertain, and Kurt stared.

 

Rachel closed her eyes and put her hands on the sides of her head, breathing in slowly and blowing out. She kept her eyes shut, and shakily continued. “I cannot deal with this right now. Kurt and I are doing our best raising you.” 

 

Kurt swallowed nervously.

 

“And I’m glad to do it, don’t get me wrong. But I’m under incredible pressure right now. The entire Funny Girl production is on my shoulders – the jobs of dozens of people, my reputation in this town. And it doesn’t help that I’ve got Santana breathing down my neck trying to take it away from me, trying to get inside my head and make me fail, the traitor.” 

 

She stopped talking for a moment, looking down at her slippered feet in exhaustion. There were suppressed tears in her voice when she continued, sounding tired and sad. She half-sobbed, "We lost our biggest investor and everything got delayed and we're in rewrites, again. Plus there's everything I have to do to make sure you’re taken care of. And missing our dads and now, not knowing for sure where Finn is or if he’s hurt –or even alive -- and that’s my fault –“

 

“Rachel, how can you think that?” Blaine rushed over to Rachel. He put his arm around her shoulder and guided her to sit down on the couch. She looked so tiny and frail sitting there twisting her hands.

 

“It’s my fault because he joined the Army to get away from me. To go where I couldn’t follow. He told me when he took me to the train station.” Rachel scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “I can’t have you acting out now on top of everything else, Blaine. You need to do as Kurt and I say, and not take these kinds of risks. I don’t want you hurt or going down a bad path. You’re my baby brother, and right now you and Kurt are all I have left besides the show.”

 

“I’m so sorry. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, really, and I’ll try not to worry you anymore,” Blaine assured her, pulling her into a hug. “I love you.”

 

“I know, and I love you too.” Rachel looked up and smiled through her tears at Kurt. “Thanks again for bringing him home, Kurt. I’m so glad I have you here to help me with Blaine. I couldn’t do this without you, and I appreciate you looking out for him, you’re such a good friend.”

 

“Uhm.” Kurt cleared his throat. “Yes. It’s no big deal.”

 

“It is a big deal. If you hadn’t been there, some old pervert could have taken advantage of this innocent little guy,” she insisted, patting Blaine on the arm. While her face was turned away, Blaine raised his eyebrows suggestively at Kurt with a lascivious grin.

 

Kurt gulped hard. “I - - I think we should all go to bed now. I know tomorrow’s Saturday, but you’ve got rehearsal and it’s late.”

 

“You're right as always, Kurt. We can discuss how long Blaine will be grounded for after a good night’s sleep.” 

 

Blaine groaned, but subsided when Rachel fixed him with an evil eye. He bent and kissed her on the cheek and headed for the bathroom.

 

Kurt retreated to his curtained room, breathing a sigh of relief until Rachel stuck her head in. “I hate to ask this, Kurt, but could you keep an eye on Blaine tomorrow while I’m at rehearsal? You know there’s so many problems with the new producers, and I have to run through everything with Santana again.”

 

Kurt kicked off his shoes and shot her an irritated look. “I hardly think he needs constant supervision, Rachel. He said he understands he has to behave. I think that’s good enough, don’t you?”

 

“He’s told us that he learned his lesson before, like that time with that Facebook Santa, remember? I can't trust his judgment. And unfortunately I can’t get out of rehearsal to keep an eye on him.”

 

Kurt fidgeted with his hands. “Well, I don’t know, Rachel.”

 

“Oh, do you have plans with Adam? Really, I understand. If you could just call in periodically, though, and check on him?”

 

He sighed. “I don’t have plans with Adam. We broke up tonight.” 

 

Rachel came in at that, and hugged him sympathetically. “Kurt! I’m so sorry! What happened?”

 

There was no way he could admit to Rachel, at this moment, that what happened was that Adam caught him with his tongue in the mouth of her supposedly innocent younger brother. He cast around for something else to say, stammering finally, “It wasn’t working out for a while, I guess. There just wasn’t much spark, and, I don’t know. It’s over, though.”

 

“So … would you be able to play parole officer for our little criminal in there?”

 

That was the last thing Kurt wanted. Rachel always tried to cast him in the role of her co-parent to Blaine, and now that was just … weird. It made him feel guilty even though the secrecy was for Rachel’s benefit, not his own. 

 

Besides, he didn’t want Rachel to ground Blaine, because Kurt wanted to take him out to the movies and dinner like he promised. He hedged, “I was hoping to go out, though – there’s a movie I wanted to see.”

 

“Can Blaine tag along with you, then? It’s more important he gets some attention and supervision right now than punishment, I think, don’t you?” Rachel persisted. “And at least then I know he’ll stay out of trouble.”

 

Blaine’s mischievous face suddenly appeared between the curtains. “I agree! What movie are you seeing, Kurt?”

 

Kurt gritted his teeth. “The Fault in Our Stars. Seven o’clock show.”

 

“Sounds great! It’s a date, then!” the incorrigible brat chirped before disappearing with a jaunty wave. 

 

r03;r03;r03;r03;r03;~ * ~

 

Kurt called out to Blaine from the little kitchen area where he was wiping the counter, “You ready, Blaine? It’s six-thirty. We should go if we want to make this showing. I made a dinner reservation at 9:30.”

 

Blaine shouted back from the bathroom, “I’m almost ready! But you have to go out and knock.”

 

Hanging the dishcloth on the rack, Kurt yelled, “Quit goofing around, Blaine, c’mon! We have to go now.”

 

“I want to be picked up like a gentleman for our first date!” Blaine demanded through the bathroom door. “Go out and wait a minute, and then knock!”

 

“Fine, you idiot,” Kurt answered, going out toward the door. He checked himself in the mirror beside it and was pleased with what he saw. He had chosen a silk shirt Blaine had given him for his last birthday, and his hair was looking extra tall and swoopy today. He glanced stealthily at the bathroom door and then opened a cabinet under the mirror, extracting a bouquet of roses he’d sneaked out to buy at the flower shop down the street. He let himself out and counted to a hundred, then knocked briskly on the door.

 

Kurt smiled at the sound of the bathroom door being flung open and then slammed shut, and Blaine’s feet scurrying across the floor. There was a slight pause, and then the door opened. Blaine leaned a shoulder nonchalantly against the door jamb. Kurt licked his lips. Blaine looked good enough to eat. 

 

“Well hello,” Blaine purred at him, looking up through a veil of preposterously long lashes. “You look amazing, Kurt. And right on time!” Glancing down at Kurt’s hands, Blaine’s face lit up all over at the sight of the red and yellow blossoms. “Flowers! Thanks so much, Kurt. They’re beautiful.” Kurt handed the roses over with a flourish; and Blaine produced a bouquet of lilacs from behind his own back. “Trade,” he giggled, and Kurt grabbed the adorable boy and pulled him close for a sweet, lingering, spine-tingling kiss over the two armfuls of flowers. 

 

God, it felt so good not to have to fight this anymore. 

 

“You know, I was thinking. Maybe I should've been grounded,” Blaine whispered breathlessly. “I’ve been a bad boy. I think you should make me stay in tonight. Maybe even spank me. I’ve been super bad.”

 

“Nice try.” Kurt gathered the two bouquets together into one huge, colorful arrangement, and pointed to a large colored-glass vase. “Grab that and fill it, and then we are going on our first date. And I know you’re just teasing, but … honey, please remember the rules, okay? We have to be totally proper - - like a couple in a movie in the nineteen fifties. We’re Frankie and Annette, got it?”

 

“Only gay. And I get to be Frankie.”

 

Kurt frowned. Blaine had to understand this was serious, and not a joke.

 

“Okay, I’ll be Annette then,” Blaine said with a teasing smile, still trying to lighten the mood. When it became clear that it wasn’t working, he sighed.

 

“I know what you’re saying,” he conceded, “and I agree to your terms that we won’t … do anything. But I can’t resist teasing you a little. You’re just so cute when I do. Your ears get all red and it’s so adorable.” Kurt smiled, and Blaine’s voice dropped to a reverent whisper as he handed Kurt the filled vase. “Everything about you is so adorable, so perfect. But I’ll be good. I promise. I can wait however long you want me to. I already waited all my life for you.” 

 

Kurt bit his lip. He nodded slightly, too moved to speak, and took the vase over to the kitchen table to put in the flowers. 

Blaine slipped his arms around Kurt from behind and nibbled at his ear while Kurt deftly arranged the flowers and then paused a moment, to enjoy the feeling of Blaine’s strong arms around his waist and his chin stretched over Kurt’s shoulder; and to admire their joint creation. The flowers looked beautiful together; vibrant primary colored roses nestled amongst the delicate, towering white and lavender lilacs. A combination that should make absolutely no sense but that somehow did, and made each of the flowers stand out more beautifully against the others. He rested his cheek back against Blaine’s and they swayed together slightly, lost in the perfect, loving moment that felt so very right, no matter what the rest of their world might think.

 

r03;r03;r03;r03;r03;~ * ~

The Apples’ rehearsal was already in progress, running through a folksy acoustic version of “We Built This City on Rock and Roll,” when Kurt hurried in, pulling out his sheet music from his bag. He tossed the bag on a chair and joined the group, all of whom fell silent at his arrival. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, puzzled. He looked over at Adam, and was taken aback at his cold expression. “Really. I was in class, and Ms. July held everyone late. It’s not my fault.”

 

“Sorry, Kurt. I really thought you’d have better taste than to show up here – that it would go without saying that you’re out of the group.”

 

“Are you – are you serious?” Kurt realized it might be a tad awkward in Apples practice for a while after the breakup, but he hadn’t thought he would be excommunicated because of a breakup, even with the Adam in “Adam’s Apples.” Even back in high school, the New Directions had taken every one of their multiple permutations of hookups and cheating and reshuffling of partners totally in stride. Nobody ever had to leave because of a relationship hitting the rocks.

 

“Quite serious. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not get into this on Apple time? All of us have busy schedules, after all.” Adam reached out and plucked the sheet music from Kurt’s hand.

 

“Actually, I do mind,” Kurt snapped. “I’d appreciate an explanation of why I’m being kicked out of a group you begged me to join in the first place, just because we’re not dating anymore. Was it my voice you wanted for the group, or was that just a line?”

 

“You’re making a scene.”

 

“You’re being totally immature.”

 

“I thought that was what you were into,” Adam countered, and Kurt drew back, flickering a glance around at the other Apples. They looked puzzled and uncomfortable. He looked back at Adam, who raised his eyebrows. “If you don’t want me to get more specific, I’d suggest you leave now without further fuss and muss.”

 

Furious, Kurt grabbed his bag and barreled toward the door, running full tilt into Rachel on the other side and scattering her books from her arms. “Kurt! Where are you going in such a hurry? Isn’t today Apples practice?” she asked as he bent to gather her books and hand them back to her.

 

The door swung open again behind them, and Adam appeared holding a bedazzled iPhone case out toward him. “You dropped your phone, Kurt. Here, take it with you. I’ve got to get back to practice.”

 

“Hold on. Why aren’t you in practice, Kurt?” Rachel asked, and Adam looked silently at Kurt, his eyebrows practically on his scalp.

 

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Oh, are you kidding me? You’re kicking Kurt out because he broke up with you? What are you, a high school student or an adult?”

 

As Kurt felt his face warming, and stood dreading what Adam might do out of spite, Adam just tilted his head and asked her, “You’re okay with what happened, then?”

 

“Whatever makes my best friend happy, I’m happy with. And you have no right to take it out on Kurt that way. He’s the best singer in your pathetic group, and he’s too good to be just a nameless Apple backing you up. You should be ashamed!” 

 

“I see. Well, I guess I’m just too broken hearted to see it that way,” Adam said calmly. “If you’d excuse us a minute, there’s a private matter I’d like to discuss with Kurt.”

 

“Please, Rachel,” Kurt begged. She flounced away with a shrug, and Kurt turned back to Adam.

 

“Thanks for not saying anything about Blaine.”

 

“I can’t believe you haven’t told her. She’s Blaine’s guardian, Kurt. Don’t you think she should know about you and him? I mean, you’re practically raising him with her. It’s sick.”

 

“I'm not raising him. And I already told you. I’m not having sex with him. It’s all totally innocent and G rated.”

 

“Sure it is. If that were true, there’d be no reason not to tell her. And it sure didn’t look innocent on that dance floor.”

 

“I’m not telling her because she’s under too much pressure. She’s on the verge of a breakdown. You saw how crazed and overprotective she was of me just now, and I’m not even her kid brother. I’m just - - trying to protect her. And it's not actually that big an age difference.There are as many years between you and me as there are between me and Blaine. There's nothing wrong with our relationship."

 

“Whatever. One piece of advice for old times’ sake, though, Kurt. If you’re working that hard to keep something you’re doing secret - - maybe you shouldn’t be doing it. Youve destroyed our relationship and friendship, and it’s plain you don’t care about that.” At Kurt’s weak protest, Adam held up a hand to silence him and continue. “But you’re risking your friendship with Rachel, and Blaine’s relationship with his sister, his only family. Think about whether a little slap and tickle with a hot young kid is really worth all that. I won’t say anything - but you really need to.”

 

Adam shook his head in disgusted and returned to Apples practice before Kurt could recover enough to answer.


	11. Birthday Wishes

February 2015

 

It was Monday Night Dinner at the loft again, the first since Kurt and Blaine had become Kurt-and-Blaine. Their dinner party was diminishing in size, sadly. The old McKinley friends Mercedes, Sam and Artie, and Kurt’s bandmate Elliot, had shown as usual and were laughing and talking happily while passing around the mismatched potluck dishes. But by Rachel’s decree Brody, Sebastian, and Santana were no longer included. Out of loyalty to Santana, Dani was absent, and Kurt had not salvaged even a cordial friendship out of the wreckage of his breakup with Adam. Though he had no second thoughts about choosing Blaine over Adam, Kurt did regret the way it had happened, and the loss of a friend in the process. Kurt hoped someday maybe that could change, but for now focused on the positive: his loyal remaining friends. Kurt shot a smile at the most special one, his secret new boyfriend, as he took a seat between Rachel and the boyfriend in question.

 

“So your birthday is this Thursday. The big one, 21!” Mercedes said, smiling at him from across the table while she poured a glass of iced tea. 

 

“Sucks that you’re going through a big breakup right before your birthday, man,” Sam said with a sympathetic look, followed by a yelp as Mercedes elbowed him.

 

“We’re supposed to be keeping his mind off that, Sam!” Mercedes hissed. 

 

Kurt smothered a smile. “It’s okay, Sam. I’m fine, really.” Better than that, actually, he thought, fighting the urge to look lovingly at Blaine in front of everyone. 

 

“Of course it’s fine, you still have us!” Mercedes declared. “And we want to take you out and celebrate. You’re the last one to turn 21 in our little glee gang, so let’s do it up big. Someplace where you can get dressed up, finally have some champagne legally, am I right?” 

 

Kurt sneaked a furtive look at Blaine, who was studying his plate motionlessly, his lips pressed together and his face carefully composed except for a slight twitch of his cheek that Kurt knew meant he was getting either nervous or upset.

 

“Actually, I was planning on just staying in that night,” Kurt started, and everyone else at the table, except Blaine, dropped their cutlery with a clamor of protests.

 

“Kurt! You have to party on your twenty-first birthday, with some legal ‘social lubrication’ yo,” Artie insisted. “Our treat.” 

 

“Really, Kurt. You only turn 21 once. It’s a big deal,” Elliot agreed. “Don’t wuss out on us.”

 

Kurt knew Blaine had made elaborate plans for his birthday, including ice-skating, a romantic dinner in Manhattan that would probably cost Blaine’s spending money for the next month, and winding up with a romantic tour of Central Park by horse-drawn carriage. They had been whispering about the plans through the privacy curtain dividing their rooms late into the night on Saturday and Sunday. What they hadn’t finalized was an alibi to lose the rest of the group. 

 

He brushed his hand against Blaine’s knee lightly, trying to get him to help save the situation, but Blaine only looked up helplessly. Kurt mumbled, “I … I think I’m going to have to work late that day, so I won’t be able to go anywhere … I’ll … I’ll be too tired - -”

 

Talking with her mouth full, Rachel cut in, “Don’t be silly, Kurt. You’re going out.” She turned toward him, eyes alight with excitement, and continued: “I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but I’ve got a private room booked at the hottest night spot on Broadway-- and Quinn and Tina are coming to town for it. I invited all your friends from NYADA and Vogue.com, too. It’s settled, you’re going out and having some fun. You’ve been hanging around this loft like an old fart entirely too much lately and need to get out and see people, especially on your birthday.”

 

“I don’t need a big celebration,” Kurt protested. “Really, Rachel, guys, I--”

 

“We’re not taking no for an answer,” Rachel said, in a tone of voice that clearly conveyed the topic was closed.. 

 

His voice quiet, Blaine asked, “I didn’t know you were planning a party, Rae. Can I come along? I’d like to wish Kurt happy birthday too.”

 

“Of course!” Kurt said, too enthusiastically, before catching a disapproving look from Rachel.

 

“The venue is 21 and up, and this is going to be an adult celebration on a school night, so … I’m sorry, honey, no,” Rachel said. She patted Blaine on the head as she stood up and started clearing dishes. “We’ll have a little dinner and some cake here before we go out, though. You can wish him happy birthday then.”

 

The others were standing up and helping clear the table, but Kurt remained sitting next to Blaine. 

 

“Baby,” he whispered amid the chatter and clattering of dishes. “Baby, please - -”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Blaine whispered fiercely. “I’m not a baby.” He looked ashamed immediately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get cranky,” he murmured, pressing Kurt’s hand under the table while cautiously eyeing the others, who were busy cleaning up in the kitchen. “I … I just was excited about our plans. But it couldn’t have worked, anyway, nobody would have understood if you celebrated just with me. It’s okay, really. Go out with your friends. You deserve it.” He got up from the table and took his plate and Kurt’s to the kitchen, leaving Kurt sitting alone at the table and wondering yet again how he could make this work, and what was the point if they couldn’t see each other or talk openly or spend time together, or even touch each other in the most innocent of ways? They were under Rachel’s watchful eyes at all times, even in their own home. They hadn’t even kissed once since their date on Saturday, which--okay--was only two days ago, but it felt like an eternity somehow. It was beyond frustrating and pointless and discouraging. He watched Blaine across the room longingly, stopping only when he noticed Artie looking at him with a suspicious expression. Kurt sighed irritably, and made up his mind that this situation was not working for him. Not at all.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

“C’mon, Kurt!” Rachel screeched, pounding on the bathroom door. “Everyone’s here and we have cake! What are you doing in there, it’s been almost an hour! We have to leave in ten minutes, what’s going on?”

 

Blaine looked over glumly from his seat crammed between Elliott and Quinn on the couch. Rachel had been especially clingy around her “best gay” Kurt today, and Blaine hadn’t even gotten to give his boyfriend so much as a kiss for his birthday, let alone give him the special present he had picked or, god forbid, take him on the romantic carriage ride and special dinner in Manhattan that he had planned like an idiot, as if it could actually happen. Now the loft was packed with all the people Rachel had invited, and he had to act like Kurt’s little buddy as usual. He’d have to give Kurt the boring, impersonal gift card to Bloomingdales that he had bought as a decoy gift to open in front of their friends, tucked inside a boring, impersonal greeting card that he had clutched in his hands. He loved Kurt so much. He was thrilled that Kurt was his boyfriend. But having to stay clear of Kurt and act like nothing was happening all the damn time, being deprived of touching him and hugging him now that he’d started … it felt like starving to death and looking at the most tempting food imaginable on a table in front of him, having a taste, and then not being allowed to finish it. 

 

“Kurt, are you okay in there?” Mercedes asked, coming to stand beside Rachel outside the bathroom door.

 

“Not really,” Kurt’s voice wavered from inside the bathroom. 

 

Blaine looked up, worried. Kurt’s sick? On his birthday? Oh no! He got up and sidled over to the door, standing next to Mercedes.

 

“Guys … guys, I know you had all this stuff planned, but things are not going well in here,” Kurt moaned. “Trust me, I … I think it’s going to be a rough night. Just - - just go. Please, this is totally embarrassing - - just go and have fun without me.” 

 

“Is it your stomach?” Rachel asked. “Do you need me to stay and take care of you?”

 

“It’s not my stomach … it’s much worse than that!” Kurt gasped. “Please, Rachel, just take everybody out of here. It’s about to get really ugly. There’s nothing anybody can do to help, trust me. I really want you to go.”

 

“Okay … if you’re really sure? I feel bad leaving you here like this on your birthday.” Rachel leaned the side of her head against the door, listening.

 

“It’s the kindest thing you can do. Please, just take everybody with you. Except Blaine, of course. Hurry.”

 

Rachel turned to the group with a sigh. “I guess he’s pretty sick, guys. Let’s give him some privacy.”

 

The group gathered their coats and left, Blaine shutting the door behind them. He padded over to the bathroom door and tapped, leaning against it. “You okay in there? Is there anything I can do?”

 

“Did they leave? All of them? Did they all get in the elevator?”

 

Blaine frowned. “Yeah, they’re gone--why - -”

 

The door opened abruptly and Blaine lost his balance, falling into the arms of a smiling Kurt. Blaine looked up at him in confusion. Kurt was dressed up to the nines in an expensive gray cashmere sweater and dress pants, his hair impeccable, a healthy glow to his freshly exfoliated skin, and the scent of just-applied cologne lingering around him pleasantly. “Are you feeling better already, Kurt? You look … really good.” 

 

“I’m fine. I was “Acting”! My training is apparently paying off,,” Kurt said, laughing. “I just wanted them to leave so I could do this.” Kurt slipped a hand under his chin, tilting it up and leaning down for a kiss, finally. Blaine savored the taste and feel of Kurt’s mouth, and slid his arms up around Kurt’s neck. The kiss intensified and deepened, sending tingling waves of pleasure up and down Blaine’s entire body. Kurt backed him against the bathroom sink, and Blaine promptly hiked himself up onto it, parting his legs and hooking his knees over Kurt’s hips to draw him closer. He smiled when Kurt’s breath hitched in response. 

 

Kurt’s lips were traveling down the side of Blaine’s neck, and Blaine shivered and moaned, “Kurt”. 

 

Kurt startled and backed away, breathing hard, running his hands restlessly up and down the outside of Blaine’s thighs. His voice husky and strained, Kurt cleared his throat and said, “We can go out exactly like we planned. I called back and got that reservation you made reinstated, and the carriage ride is back on.”

 

Blaine slapped Kurt lightly on the arm. “You had to make your own birthday plans? Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this so I could arrange everything?”

 

“You thought of everything and made the arrangements once. I wanted to surprise you.” Kurt smiled proudly, gray-blue eyes sparkling, and all Blaine wanted was to kiss him again. He hooked his fingers in Kurt’s belt loops to stealthily draw him back between his legs. 

 

Kurt wouldn’t move, though, but just leaned over to kiss him gently, his lips soft and warm and firm, keeping his hips back this time. One kiss, then another. And another, Kurt’s hand cupping his cheek, and Blaine whimpered again, his toes curling and his back arching. He was disappointed when Kurt pulled away again, this time backing to the bathroom doorway. His voice came out panting and strangled-sounding.“Okay, we’d better stop. Hey, there’s all that cake out there. Want a piece?”

 

What Blaine wanted a piece of, was definitely not birthday cake. Blaine wanted Kurt to come back over and make love to him against this sink. But he had to be good, had to follow Kurt’s rules. He wouldn’t even suggest it. But …

 

“I … I need a minute in here first. If you don’t mind,” he gasped. 

 

Kurt nodded, his face red, and agreed, “Yeah … I … know what you mean. Me too … I - - I’ll meet you in the kitchen in ten minutes.” Blaine leaned around the doorway and watched Kurt run toward his room, unbuckling his belt, whipping it through his belt loops, and letting it fall to the floor with a clatter as he disappeared behind the curtain. The sound of the bed springs as Kurt fell onto his bed followed.

 

Blaine groaned, and shut the door bathroom door with a bang while snapping open the button on his own suddenly unbearably tight pants. He pushed down on the lotion dispenser on the side of the sink with one hand, grabbing a tissue with the other, laying it out neatly on the countertop at the ready. He paused for a second. With everyone else ten feet away in the loft at all times, he really didn’t get too many opportunities to take care of his “needs” and he felt like was about to die if he didn’t do something. He didn’t think he’d make it through the night without coming in his pants if he didn’t get the edge off, and after all, this is why they invented masturbation, wasn’t it? Still, he felt a little guilty and weird about blatantly asking for time to do this. 

 

But not that guilty.

 

He pulled his the waistband of his underwear down and slid his slicked-up hand along his erection, spreading the lotion over and around, before hopping up on the bathroom sink, his legs dangling, and leaning back against the mirror. He started stroking himself rhythmically but quickly, not wanting to prolong this, trying not to make too much noise -- not even breathing too hard. He was painfully aware that Kurt was in the next room, and might hear him. He didn’t want to embarrass himself. But it had been days, and Kurt was so hot - - he started squirming with the effort of keeping quiet, shutting his eyes tightly while continuing to stroke harder and faster. 

 

Then, he heard a muffled moan from the direction of the loft. He was both exponentially more turned on by the sound, and relieved to know it wasn't just him who was resorting to this. 

 

He ran his hand up and down faster. His eyes dropped shut in bliss, only to pop open a second later at the soft but unmistakable squeak of Kurt's antique brass headboard creaking back and forth. Oh god. That meant Kurt was rocking in his bed while jerking off to him. He imagined it, Kurt splayed out, all lean muscle and soft, pale glowing skin, whispering his name, thinking about him. He forgot to be quiet, whimpering too loudly and gasping for breath as he jerked in time with the sounds from Kurt’s bedroom, Kurt’s face and voice filling his mind and heart and soul.

 

This was as close as they could have to getting off together, at least until June and his birthday, the magical date that mattered so much to Kurt. Of course he’d rather be a lot closer to Kurt right now, but he found the mental image of Kurt touching himself frantically in his room a few feet away, while he did the same in here, was surprisingly … effective. 

 

The sound of the headboard hitting Kurt's wall along with another stifled moan sent Blaine over the edge, harder than he'd ever done alone or with another boy. Slumping, he gasped for air, wondering ... what would touching Kurt be like, when it was this intense twenty feet away from him with only the sounds and fantasy of Kurt spurring him on? He shivered deliciously at the thought, but willed it away; he didn't want to spend the whole night in the bathroom, after all.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

Blaine yawned and stretched, and headed toward the bathroom scratching his head. His hair was always so itchy and crunchy if he fell asleep without rinsing out the gel first, like he had last night after Kurt’s birthday date. He thought dreamily about what a perfect night it had been. Even if he was pretty tired now and had overslept. He tapped on the bathroom door.

 

“Rae, hurry up! I have to get into school by 8:00 a.m. and I need a shower!” he called. The door flew open. Rachel was in a towel with the lotion bottle in her hand. 

 

“My beauty routine is all thrown off, Blaine! I’m almost out of bronzer!” She held out the bottle and Blaine’s eyes bulged in horror. 

 

“That- that’s bronzer?” he asked, tucking his right hand into his pocket. 

 

“Yes, and super-expensive, and I could’ve sworn I just refilled it,” Rachel fretted. “I did a whole leg before I realized. I'm going to be half-and-half. It looks weird to have just one tan leg, don't you think?"

 

“Dunno,” Blaine murmured. “But can I at least use the bathroom a minute?”

 

“Okay, but don’t take long, this is a skincare emergency.”

 

Blaine shut the door to the bathroom and removed his hand from his pocket. He winced at the sight of his palm stained George Hamilton mahogany. His movements slow with dread, he shut his eyes as he lowered his pajama bottoms and boxers, and looked down. After staring at his now mismatched genitalia for a long, agonized moment, he jumped when Rachel rattled the doorknob. “Blaine! Time’s up! I need to get in there and finish my skincare routine!” 

 

He yanked his pants up and opened the door with his left hand, his right hand firmly in the pocket of his robe. Kurt was curled up like a cat in the weird low wooden chair in the living room near the kitchen, and Blaine trudged over to steal a quick kiss while Rachel was in the bathroom before proceeding to the kitchen. Conscious of Kurt’s eyes on him, he opened the refrigerator door, took out the orange juice, got down a glass, poured it out and drank it, all completely left-handed. He was trying to get a piece of bread out for some toast, when Kurt called out from his chair over his coffee cup. 

 

“Hey. Who are you supposed to be, Hugh Hefner? What’s with the hand in the robe pocket? I think that’d be easier with both hands, don’t you?” Kurt’s eyes twinkled. “Unless there’s something you’re hiding.”

 

Sighing, Blaine pulled out his hand, and held the deeply tanned palm up in a little wave, and Kurt spluttered a spray of coffee. “What the hell happened?” he asked, wiping his chin of dripping coffee.

 

“This is nothing. You should see what happened, y’know, in Peru.”

 

“What are you talking about?” 

 

Blaine gestured below his belt. “Y’know. Below the equator. Where you haven’t granted our hands visas to go? Last night, in the bathroom. I thought Rachel’s bronzer was hand lotion.”

 

When Kurt wouldn’t stop laughing, Blaine grinned and ran over to jump on his lap for a wrestling match marked with silent, suppressed giggles and furtive kisses until the bathroom door opened, and they had to spring apart yet again. For now.

 

March 2015

 

“This is the place,” Elliott announced, pulling Kurt by the arm. “My favorite music store. Here’s where we’ll get your new axe.” 

 

“Okay,” Kurt laughed, letting himself be dragged into the store. The new band was going great, except for the fact that they had five lead singers and only two people who really played instruments. They couldn’t afford to keep hiring people to fill in, and if they ever hoped to have their own sound and message, they’d have to start playing their own instruments and writing their own music. Or so Elliott had insisted. He had also insisted on teaching Kurt to play the guitar.

 

As they approached the wall with the electric guitars, a heavily tattooed and extremely serious looking young clerk stepped in front of them. 

 

Speaking in a monotone, he droned, “You bought a guitar last week, Elliott. Back for another one so soon?” 

 

“Hey, Beckett. No, my bandmate here is looking to pick it up.”

 

Beckett fingered a huge spacer in his ear and looked Kurt up and down, eyes half-lidded and blank as a zombie's. “You’re the one who put together the Madonna cover band Elliott’s in, huh?”

 

“Guilty!” Kurt smiled, but let it subside when Beckett gave him a disdainful look.. 

 

“Elliott’s one thing. I know he can shred,” Beckett said, nodding and fist-bumping Elliott without turning his eyes from Kurt. “But you seem like more of a tambourine kinda guy.”

 

“Beckett, c’mon. He’s cool,” Elliott protested. 

 

“I don’t want to sell a guitar to some dude who won’t have the commitment. He’ll be back here to return it in 29 days. The tambourines are over there,” Becket mumbled, pointing listlessly. “Or maybe a nice triangle. Or both, if you're doing Madonna covers."

 

“If we can prove he can rock-and-roll, then can he get one?” Elliott said, elbowing Kurt in the side. Kurt raised an eyebrow at Elliott, wondering where this was headed.

 

“Sure,” Beckett said. “Let’s hear what he’s got.” 

 

“I Believe in a Thing Called Love!“ Elliott yelled to three guitarists in the corner, and Kurt jumped into action with the opening chords. Fortunately, three years of impromptu musical performances with New Directions had him in good stead. He loved this song, and he loved a chance to show off and change people’s minds about what he could do, so he followed Elliott’s lead. He belted out the song at the top of his lungs, jumped onto displays, and then spotted a stripper pole inexplicably in the middle of the store. His eyes sparkled with delight, and he took a running leap, grabbing the pole and flipping upside down to shimmy down it, never losing a beat. He and Elliott had great musical chemistry, and they used it, both leaping up on the register to face off, mock-grinding with eyes locked on each other, for a big finale. The customers went wild, and Beckett was rushing over with an electric guitar in each hand for him to inspect. 

 

And then Elliott, apparently caught up in the moment, grabbed Kurt around the waist and kissed him before he could react or stop him. The crowd went berserk, and Kurt couldn’t help laughing, even as he pushed Elliott back, a little annoyed. But the abrupt movement of the door over the heads of the cheering crowd caught his eye, and he saw a shiny, gelled dark head of hair flash past the store window as the door swung closed.

 

“Blaine,” he whispered, horrified. He jumped down and started pushing his way through the crowd, most of whom were trying to slap him on the back and compliment his performance, and by the time he reached the doorway and looked down the street, he could see Blaine getting into a cab and speeding away. “Damn it,” he moaned, as Elliott reached his side.

 

“Kurt - - where are you going?”

 

“Why’d you kiss me, is more the question!” Kurt shouted. “What got into you? We’re just friends, where do you get off kissing me out of nowhere?”

 

Elliott frowned. “I - - I thought we were flirting, Kurt--I got a little caught up in it. Didn’t you feel the chemistry in there?” 

 

“We were performing! Do you know what you’ve done?” Kurt snapped, before he realized that no, Elliott had no idea.

 

“Look, Kurt, I’m sorry if I misread the signals. I honestly thought you were flirting and you'd like a kiss.”

 

“It’s all right, I guess it was just a misunderstanding,” Kurt said, rapidly texting Blaine, “it wasn’t what it looked like”. He pressed ‘send’, but there was no little message indicating Blaine received the text. He cursed under his breath, and shoved the phone in his pocket. “I have to go.” He stepped to the curb, waving his arm frantically for a cab.

 

Elliott raised an eyebrow. “Blaine will be fine, Kurt. I mean, it’s really nice of you to be this concerned about his feelings, but he’ll get over it.”

 

Kurt swallowed and turned around, looking steadily at the ground for a moment. He tried to keep his voice neutral. “What are you talking about?”

 

Elliott’s kind eyes softened. “Everybody knows he’s got a thing for you. It’s kind of a running joke with your friends, actually. It’s cute.” Kurt winced, as Elliott continued, “But I got the feeling he actually thought he had a shot when you and Adam broke up. I’m guessing that’s why you ran out here when he got upset just now? Because you must know how he feels.”

 

Kurt looked up, stricken. “He was really upset? Are you sure? I couldn't see his face."

 

“I had a better view than you did. Yeah. He looked pretty upset.”

 

Kurt cursed again. “Do you know how much he saw?”

 

“He was in the store, over in sheet music, when we started singing. I recommended this place to him the other day, he was looking for a good sheet music store for an audition. I assume he saw the whole performance.” 

 

Kurt covered his eyes with both hands. 

 

“Kurt - - look, I’m sure it hurt a little, what with the crush he has on you. But maybe it’s for the best? After all, he has to understand you’re going to date. Even if it’s not me or Adam, it’s going to be somebody. You’ve been living like a monk since Adam broke up with you, but that isn’t going to be permanent, not with the way you look. I don’t understand how it’s even lasted this long.”

 

“It’s because - - God, Elliott.” He felt like pulling his hair out. “I - - I need to talk to somebody. Can I trust you with a secret?”

 

“Of course,” Elliott said. “You’re worrying me though. Is it bad?”

 

“No. But -- it’s Blaine. It’s not just a crush, and it’s not one-sided. We’re dating. It’s strictly non-sexual and secret until he turns 17 in a few months.”

 

“Oh.” Elliott looked blank for a moment, and then realization dawned in his eyes. “Oh!”

 

“Yeah. Oh.” Kurt sighed and brushed his eyes with his hand. “Do you think I’m a horrible person?”

 

Elliott shook his head. “No. Of course not. But I think you’re going to have some explaining to do to your boyfriend. Do you want me to talk to him? Tell him it wasn’t your fault?”

 

“No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.“ Kurt put his hand up to hail a cab that was coming up the street, and it pulled over right in front of the store. “I’ll deal with this. I - -” he stopped short as he opened the car door and Blaine started to step out. They stared at each other beside the open door, Blaine’s eyes red from the traces of tears and his mouth twisting. 

 

Elliott stepped forward. “Blaine - - I’m sorry, buddy. I didn’t know that you and Kurt had something together, and - I guess I got carried away in there. You have a very hot boyfriend, and - -”

 

“Shut. Up. Shut up, you...you... glitter rock vampire!” Blaine shouted, leaping out of the cab and slamming the door shut in a rare fit of temper and rudeness. He pointed at Elliott, narrowed his eyes, and warned, “Keep your hands to yourself from now on, got it, Twilight? Kurt’s taken!”

 

“Blaine!” Kurt stared at Blaine, who was glowering at Elliott with pure malice written over his features. “Cut it out! He didn’t know about us, and - -”

 

Blaine rounded on Kurt now. “No, he didn’t, but that’s your fault!” Blaine was blinking rapidly and had started waving his arms. “Of course he thought you were fair game! Of course he wants you! How can I compete with everybody who’s going to go after you because they think you’re single? Everybody who’s older, and taller, and cooler - -” Blaine reddened, and turned to get back into the cab, trying to pull the door after himself, but with a quick apologetic look at Elliott, Kurt pushed his way into the cab and slammed the door shut.

 

He gave the loft's address to the driver, who was watching the whole dramatic scene with open amusement, and the cab pulled away from the curb.

 

Blaine turned away and stared out the window. Kurt let the silence extend for a full five minutes, watching Blaine’s face. The anger and rage slowly waned, but were replaced by pain and sadness. Biting his lip, Kurt put a hand on Blaine’s and squeezed it. “I’m sorry you saw that. But it was just a performance, I swear. I didn’t want him to kiss me.”

 

Blaine nodded, still averting his gaze out the window. 

 

Kurt waited another moment and said softly, "I didn’t like what you said about older and taller and cooler. I don’t want all that. I want you.”

 

His boyfriend turned a sour look on him. “Gee, thanks.”

 

“You know what I mean. I think you’re wonderful, don’t you know that?” Kurt moved closer. He was relieved when Blaine didn’t flinch away.

 

“But you see my problem, Kurt? I don’t like that everybody thinks you’re single.”

 

“Everybody thinks you’re single, except Sebastian, don’t they? And I’m sure there are plenty of other boys at NYADA Prep who are more fun, and younger, and cuter than me, who would love to date you.”

 

“Just younger. Nobody’s cuter or more fun than you. You asshole.” Blaine turned to pout out the window. “And for your information, I tell everybody at NYADA Prep that I have a boyfriend who goes to another school, so everybody knows I’m taken. I don’t like that you don’t do the same.”

“Well, I could hardly tell Elliott some story like that,” Kurt pointed out. “And I just told him the truth about you, didn’t I? Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

 

Blaine stubbornly continued to look out the window. 

 

“What’s really bothering you? Are you really that insecure about us? About yourself, and how I feel about you?” Kurt asked, his heart sinking by the minute. 

 

Blaine sighed. “I guess I don’t really believe you would choose me over someone like Elliott or Adam. They’re just …”

 

“Stop. Okay? You are my boyfriend. My perfectly imperfect little package of adorable, hot, smart, talented boyfriend. The David Burtka to my Neil Patrick Harris. The David Furnish to my Elton John.” He slipped his arms around Blaine’s waist, pleased that Blaine was offering no resistance. “And my best friend,” he whispered in Blaine’s ear. “I don’t want to be with anybody else but you.” Blaine turned his head finally, leaning back against the car seat, and gazed into his eyes for a moment, before accepting a tender, languid kiss. 

 

The car pulled up at their apartment building, and the cab driver turned around. “This is it guys. That’ll be $15.25.”

 

Kurt nuzzled the tip of his nose against Blaine’s for another moment while fishing in his pocket for a $20 and handing it to the driver. “Keep the meter running,” he said before leaning in again for another kiss.

 

April 2015

 

"Give me your hand."

 

Blaine's eyes were like melting honey in the candlelight. His face looked like an Italian Renaissance sculpture, like David, come to life. Kurt wanted to look at him forever. He obediently put his hand in Blaine's, mesmerized.

 

Blaine cleared his throat. "Kurt Hummel, will you do me the honor of accompanying me to my junior prom?"

 

Kurt blinked. "Prom? You want me to go to prom with you?" 

 

So. That explained the reservations at the too-expensive restaurant. And Blaine's insistence on dressing up for dinner, even though it had meant leaving the loft separately, with their dress clothes hidden in a bag, and meeting up at the coffee shop down the street to change. It was leadup to a prom proposal. Kurt tried to look enthusiastic.

 

"Kurt, hear me out, please. I know you're worried about Rachel finding out about us, and what that would do to her. I am too. But her out-of-town run with Funny Girl starts before then. We'll be alone in the loft together. She'll never have to know."

 

"Oh."

 

"Oh?" Blaine let go of Kurt's hand. "I get it. You don't want to go to some dumb high school prom with your dumb high school boyfriend. I'm so stupid to think you'd want to--"

 

"Blaine. Stop. It's not about that. It's just -- prom..."

 

"What about prom, Kurt?"

Kurt ran a hand through his hair and shut his eyes briefly. "I just don't have very good associations with prom. The only one I went to in high school ended pretty badly." 

 

Blaine's eyes softened. "Well, I can certainly relate. My first dance was a disaster too. But this is different. It's a chance at a normal, romantic high school prom-- for both of us. And since I'll be 17 by then, I was hoping we'd follow all the time honored prom traditions." He slid his hand across the table and covered Kurt's smoothly, before raising Kurt's hand to his lips and pressing a suave kiss on the back of it.

 

Kurt's mouth twisted in a stifled laugh. "When you put it that way how can I refuse?" He hesitated. "Only ..."

 

"What?" Blaine demanded, still smiling.

 

"This has been a totally Victorian courtship so far, and we've been religious about the no-naughty-bits rule." Kurt paused and reached to cup Blaine's cheek with his hand. "Are you sure you're ready for full-on 'après-prom' festivities? I mean... the naked ones?"

 

Blaine coughed and Kurt realized the waitress was standing next to the table holding a small leather folder with the check. 

 

"I assume you're getting this, sir?" She dropped the check in front of Kurt.

 

Blaine reached for the bill. "Thank you, Jennifer." He handed the bill to her with his debit card and a huge smile. She left silently to run the card -- and Kurt hoped not to call the police or Child Protective Services. 

 

"Hey Kurt," Blaine piped up, startling him. "Remember those pale blue acid washed skinny jeans you had, your senior year at McKinley?"

 

"There's a non sequitur. Sure. The Armani Exchange ones. Why do you ask?"

 

Blaine picked up his soda and took a lingering sip from the straw with his eyes trained on Kurt's mouth. Setting the drink down, he smiled. "Because I've been ready to take that step with you since the first time I saw you in them. I've kept my urges to myself because you wanted us to take it slow until I was 17."

 

Arousal and temptation was spreading through him, especially at the images Blaine’s words brought up in his mind, but Kurt just lightly joked, "To yourself, eh?" 

 

"Any port in a storm. C’mon, Kurt. You know I’m more than ready. I’m actually having a hard time not doing you right now in public.”

 

Kurt chuckled, but shifted in his seat uneasily. "I'm just not sure we should even be planning sex while you're still underage --"

 

Jennifer rematerialized at that unfortunate moment with the check and Blaine's card. Kurt felt his face burning while she handed them to Blaine. 

 

Blaine calculated a 20% tip and added it to the receipt. His lip was drawn between his teeth as he focused on the math, and for a moment he looked impossibly young. Kurt made up his mind.

 

Jennifer took the receipt, smiled at Blaine and frowned again at Kurt, and left, and Kurt took Blaine's hand again. "I'll be happy to go to prom with you. But let's not make any big decisions about ... you know what for now, okay? Just enjoy the evening, no pressure?"

 

"Okay." Blaine looked like a disappointed child being sent to his room without dessert. Kurt was half amused and half uncomfortable, as he always was when his usually mature sixteen year old boyfriend showed occasional signs of ... being a typical sixteen year old. Blaine was only proving Kurt's point. Kurt was the adult, and he had to set boundaries. Starting with observing the local laws about underage sex. That was not negotiable, whether Blaine liked it or not.

 

He pulled on Blaine's hand playfully. "Hey, come on. Cheer up. Let's go to Vogue and check out the vault for our tuxes right now. How about that?"

 

Blaine's sulky expression brightened immediately. "Deal. I'll arrange everything else, though."

 

Kurt got up from the table, wondering a little apprehensively what his boyfriend planned to "arrange". Blaine was a Berry through and through, and tended toward wild, over the top schemes and plans. But since the cloud had passed and good humor and sunshine had been restored, Kurt let it go for the night.

 

~ * ~

 

Kurt rolled over in bed and blinked curiously. His room in the loft was separated from Blaine's by a heavy privacy curtain hanging from metal rings along a track on the ceiling. A light was shining over the top of the curtain separating them. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. Three o'clock. 

 

He sat up wearily, stretching, and heard a muffled sob. Without thinking, he got of bed and drew the edge of the thick curtain away from the wall to check on his boyfriend.

 

Blaine was sitting up in bed, in his old-fashioned silk pajamas, his knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. He turned his tear stained face toward Kurt in surprise. Scrubbing his face with his sleeve hurriedly, he whispered, "Did the light wake you? I'm sorry."

 

"Don't be," Kurt said. "Why are you up so late?"

 

Blaine shrugged. "Had a dream. I ... don't want to go back to sleep just yet."

 

"Nightmares can be pretty bad, can't they," Kurt sympathized. He leaned on Blaine's dresser from his side, longing to go to Blaine, but worried about Rachel in her nearby room in the tiny loft.

 

"It wasn't a nightmare. It ... it was a good dream."

 

"Oh-- I don't understand?"

 

There was a deep, aching sadness in Blaine's smile. "I dreamed that my dads were alive. And Rachel was ... like she used to be. We were happy. And I told all of them you and I were ..." he blushed. "Don't freak out now." He smiled again, a little less sadly. "I told them you and I were getting married. Don't worry. It was just a dream. I know it's way too soon for a wedding."

 

Kurt confessed, "I sometimes dream about marrying you too. When I'm awake. I have our tuxes all picked out in my head."

 

"Really?"

 

Kurt nodded. "It may be too early to plan a wedding, but it's never too early to dream about it."

 

Blaine's face shone, then fell. "In my dream, my dads and Rachel were so happy. And then I woke up. And real life came back and hit me like a freight train. That's why I hate good dreams. Waking up from them is so hard."

 

Blaine crossed his arms in front of his face, then looked up at Kurt through his clasped hands. "Are we just another good dream I'm gonna wake up from someday, Kurt? Because... Well, since nobody else knows..." Blaine's face looked bewildered, "... it doesn't always seem real ... Like it's too good to be true. I've been dreaming about you for so long, it still feels like a dream, even now. And I'm scared how it'll feel when I wake up from it."

 

Kurt was supposed to stay out of Blaine's arms at night. They were supposed to be careful. They were a secret. It had to stay that way.

 

But he clicked off the light and slipped past the curtain and into the bed, tucking the blankets in around Blaine before holding him close. "We're real, honey." He kissed his sweet boy's lips tenderly. "As real as it gets. This dream is forever."


	12. Good Behavior

May 2015

 

Rachel snapped the lock on her bright pink suitcase and rolled it next to the pile of luggage by the door on her very own hotel-quality luggage cart. Surveying the assembled personal effects, she consulted a list on a sheet of “Rachel Berry, Superstar” stationery. 

 

“Humidifier. Check. Electric foot spa. Check. Portable hood dryer. Check. Manicure set -”

 

Kurt looked up from from his perch on a stool in the kitchen, where he was working the New York Times Magazine puzzle in pen. “Rachel, you’re going on an out of town tour … on a bus,” he called “You can’t take all that.”

 

“This is all necessary professional equipment to maximize my performance,” Rachel insisted. “But I’m going to need some help bringing it downstairs … Blaine, could you take the cart down in the elevator and wait downstairs for the cab? Call me when it gets here?”

 

Blaine nodded agreeably before opening the door, backing the cart out carefully and maneuvering it down the hall. Rachel called her thanks out the door and shut it, turning to Kurt. “Now that he’s gone, I was hoping we could talk about Blaine before I go?”

 

Startled and guilty, Kurt looked up from his crossword puzzle over his glasses. “Blaine? Why do you want to talk about him with me?“ He felt beads of sweat start to stand out on his forehead. If Rachel knew already, that would be a relief in a way, but he wasn’t prepared for this conversation quite yet. Rachel hopped up on a stool and set her enormous slouch bag up on the counter. She started rummaging in it while Kurt laid down his pen and waited nervously for her to continue. 

 

“You’re already Blaine’s second emergency contact at his school. But I had these drawn up in case he needs any medical treatment while I’m away.” She pulled a packet of papers out of her purse, and started rifling through them. “Just show those at the pediatrician’s or the emergency room if anything comes up,” she started, laying a stapled-together set of notarized papers on top of Kurt’s puzzle. “I also signed a paper that authorizes you to discuss his schoolwork with his teachers. There’s a conference with his guidance counselor next week, and I couldn’t get it moved up. I’d appreciate it if you went instead. And he’ll need a back-to-school physical this summer before I’m back. His pediatrician’s number and our insurance card are here.”

 

Kurt froze as Rachel slid paper after paper across the counter at him. 

 

“And I hope you’ll enforce his curfew and other rules around here.” Kurt looked away, rubbing his hand over his forehead. Rachel studied him anxiously. “Kurt? You got all that? I’m counting on you to take care of Blaine while I’m away.” 

 

“I - I don’t know about being responsible for him like that, Rachel. You really should have asked me about this before setting all this legal stuff up. I’m - - Blaine’s friend, not - - not his big brother. ”

 

“Kurt, that’s just not true! Blaine thinks the world of you, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re family!” Rachel insisted, patting his knee dismissively. “There’s nobody I’d trust more with Blaine. I’m sorry about dumping all this on you at the last minute … I guess I just assumed you’d be okay with it since you’ve always helped with Blaine before.”

 

Kurt rubbed his forehead wearily. “Rachel, picking him up at school a few times when he was sick, or helping him with his homework sometimes is one thing. Taking him to the pediatrician or going to his parent-teacher conferences is something else. I don’t know if I should be doing this. Can’t all this wait until you get back?”

 

Rachel shook her head adamantly. “No, I’m going to be gone all summer and I need somebody here to handle it. Look, I know it seems overwhelming, but it won’t be that bad. Blaine has a job at the Starlight Diner this summer, that’ll keep him busy most of the time once school’s out. And he’s really settled down lately, he hasn’t acted out for months. I don’t think he’ll give you any trouble.”

 

Kurt silently took the papers and nodded numbly, thumbing through them. “Okay, Rachel. I’ll - - I’ll make sure that he’s okay while you’re gone.”

 

“You’re amazing - the most unselfish, wonderful best gay a girl ever had!” Her phone beeped and she looked at it briefly. “Blaine says the cab’s down there. Well, I’m off,” she said. “When I get my Tony, I’ll be sure to mention you in my acceptance speech. Bye ‘Big Brother’.” She planted a sticky kiss on his cheek and skipped out the door.

 

~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~

 

The next evening, Kurt smiled as Blaine approached the couch with a tray of healthy snacks and drinks. He admired the view as Blaine bent over to set the food down on the coffee table. Blaine had an impeccable ass, really. As edible-looking as any of the snacks Blaine was fussing with. Kurt tilted his head, mouth watering, and admired its pronounced curve in the tight, vermillion pants that no other human being could have carried off, or would probably even try to. Blaine sat down on the couch next to him and offered him a fruit and cheese plate. 

 

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” Kurt said, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. He was fighting a raging erection, but Blaine seemed oblivious and completely content, flipping through the channels. Giving in to temptation a little, Kurt reached for Blaine, pulling him close and going for a kiss on the lips. But Blaine laughed, and kissed him on the cheek lightly.

 

“How about 'What Would You Do'?” Blaine asked. Kurt made a face. “Okay, how about 'Modern Family'?” Blaine offered. Kurt sighed in frustration as Blaine kept flipping channels while Kurt tried to distract him with kisses. He supposed this was what he'd asked for. After Kurt had given Blaine a few reprimands about keeping all four of their feet on the floor and all four of their hands above the waist early on, Blaine had become a regular Sandra Dee, dutifully keeping things from getting any more heated than would have been acceptable in a 19th century drawing room. 

 

Kurt knew Blaine was attracted to him. Even during their innocent makeout sessions he could feel Blaine’s breath speed up, his skin grow damp with sweat, and his pulse race, along with Kurt’s own. And anybody with eyes could see what was happening below the waist for both of them, even right this minute. Sure, he knew Blaine was just following the rules that Kurt himself had set. But … good god, can Blaine’s birthday get here already? Before I explode?

 

Giving up on trying to entice Blaine into another makeout session that would just end in frustration anyway, Kurt took the remote out of Blaine’s hand and muted the TV. “How about we talk about Saturday?” 

 

“Okay. What about it?”

 

“Well. You know. Your birthday. The big 1-7. I’m feeling really generous right now, so it’s a good time to let me know what you want. I’m up for anything you want to do,” Kurt intoned suggestively. 

 

“I - I do want something special, now that you ask. It’s kind of embarrassing, though,” Blaine said, blushing adorably and ducking his head.

 

Thank God and also Jesus. “Don’t be embarrassed, honey! You can ask me for anything and I’ll make it happen.” Say a weekend trip and a stay at a hotel … with a hot tub. Yes, and a king-size bed, and - -

 

“I want to do something with you we haven’t done before, and, well, it’s kind of weird. Don’t judge me, okay?”

 

This sounds promising. Kurt cleared his throat, finding it a bit dry suddenly. His voice came out as a croaking whisper, “Tell me, baby.” He stroked Blaine’s neck softly with a gentle hand. “Go on.”

 

“I want to go to Six Flags Great Adventure.”

 

Kurt stared at him. “- - Six Flags? Really?”

 

“I know it’s kind of idiotic, but ... “ Blaine looked down. “I just want to do something silly and fun and … well, I don’t know. I used to go to the amusement park in Cedar Point every year with - - with my dads and Rachel on my birthday. I know it’s stupid, but I want to do that again. With you. Please?”

 

Kurt was surprised and a little disappointed at Blaine’s choice, but looking at his boyfriend’s pleading face, it made sense that Blaine wanted to do something childish, something he remembered fondly from a childhood marked too often by tragedy, to celebrate this important birthday. He couldn’t deny him that. 

 

“Sure,” he laughed, pulling a thrilled Blaine into his arms and hugging him tight. “We’ll get up early and make a whole day of it.”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

 

Prom Night 

 

Kurt was getting worried.

 

He had rationalized that Blaine was just observing Kurt’s own rules to the letter, by not even mentioning sex until after his birthday. As much as Kurt wanted to take him someplace adult and consummate the relationship as soon as Blaine was legal, he could see the amusement park was important to him. So Kurt had reigned in his libido and bought the tickets to Six Flags for Blaine's birthday. He gamely went on the Human Slingshot ride, the Drop of Doom and the Devil Dive. He ate Dippin Dots and funnel cake for dinner. He let Blaine try to win him ugly, musty stuffed animals at the shooting range to his little heart’s content. Blaine’s contented smile as he dozed off in the car on the way home, his sunburnt face against Kurt’s shoulder, made it all worthwhile. But Kurt had been vaguely unsettled, and more than a little insulted, by Blaine's choice of birthday activity. He'd really wanted to give Blaine a very different kind of ride for his birthday than the Tilt-a-Whirl at Great Adventure. 

 

Kurt had assumed that once the birthday was out of the way, Blaine would make his big move shortly thereafter … in fact, if there'd been a betting pool, Kurt would've picked the square for 12:01 am on Blaine's birthday for Blaine to at least bring up the subject. But he would have lost that bet. Blaine hadn’t mentioned making love at all on his birthday or any day since.

 

Though Blaine had been fully legal for over a week, Kurt still had some holdover reservation about being the one to move their relationship forward sexually. Blaine had to instigate the change for Kurt to feel okay about it, given their age difference. It might be silly, but he felt like it would be wrong, even now, to influence Blaine at all toward sex. So he waited, not-so-patiently, for Blaine to make the first move. And things were moving at a glacier’s pace in that department.

 

Kurt really hoped that Blaine was ready for more after several wonderful, but sexually frustrating, months of dating. That he was just saving the big moment for prom night, like he'd implied after his prom proposal. But Blaine hadn’t mentioned it all night.

 

It was still a wonderful night; the prom was lovely, a special event that he actually enjoyed and didn’t just endure for Blaine’s sake. He and Blaine were the best-dressed people there, bar none, in their fabulous designer tuxedos borrowed from the Vogue vault that he had tailored to perfection himself. He got on well with Blaine's new performing arts friends. Best of all, he slow danced all night with his boyfriend the way he never had a chance to when he went to high school. He and Blaine even sang a duet together, bringing the house down with "American Boy." It felt great to share such a milestone event with his cutie. And to throw caution to the wind and flaunt their relationship publicly for once.

 

But the night was over now, and ... there was no clichéd limo waiting to take them to a fancy after-prom hotel. They just took the subway home and walked the few blocks from the subway station to their apartment. Nothing whatsoever had been said about consummating their relationship. Or even a quick hand job, to take the edge off. He’d take anything at this point.

 

As the door to the loft swung open, Kurt gasped. The entire loft was alight with dozens of flickering candles, and soft, romantic music was playing. There was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket with two flutes beside it on the kitchen table. The privacy curtains around the bed were drawn back, and a path of white flower petals led up to it.

 

“How - - how - -”

 

“A friend of mine,” Blaine said lightly. “He set it all up according to my detailed instructions while we were out, and I texted him when we were ten minutes away to light everything and put the music on for me." He shut the door and took Kurt's coat.

 

"Sebastian?" 

 

Blaine shrugged and nodded, playing with Kurt's tie.

 

Kurt looked around, impressed. “I never thought I’d thank that arrogant bestie of yours for anything, but … I will have to thank him for this. It looks amazing.”

 

“You look amazing,” Blaine whispered. “Kurt … I …” The boy looked down shyly, fumbling with Kurt’s lapels. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Kurt said, turning Blaine’s chin up for a kiss. 

 

“Let me show you how much?" Blaine asked, finally. “I’ve been so good, like you told me to, I waited all this time to even bring it up like you wanted. But … can we …?”

 

Kurt kissed Blaine on the hand and nodded, his eyes growing misty. 

 

“I was expecting a hotel room,” Kurt couldn't resist teasing. He let Blaine unbutton his shirt for him. "And knowing you, a show choir singing backup in the corner."

 

“I didn’t want it to be someplace else. I wanted it here, where we live together and fell in love,” Blaine admitted. He paused in the middle of unfastening Kurt's cuff links and looked up anxiously. “But if you want to go someplace else for our first time ---”

 

Kurt stopped him with a kiss. “No. It’s perfect, you’re right. I love it." He kissed him again. "I love you.” He was surprised to find himself nervous and shaky now that the moment was here. His hands were trembly and weak, and Blaine had to slide Kurt’s shirt off and onto the floor for him. “I - I need - -”

 

“What do you need, baby?” Blaine asked, mouthing at Kurt’s neck while unbuttoning Kurt’s pants for him with deft movements. 

 

“That,” Kurt whimpered. “You - - in charge?” Blaine drew back, a slightly worried, curious half-smile on his face. He cupped Kurt’s cheek tenderly.

 

“Kurt, it’s okay, honey. What we’re doing -- it’s not bad, or forbidden. It’s right. You know that, don’t you?”

 

“I know,” Kurt murmured. “But the first time, I need you to take the lead. You decide what we do.” He slid his arms around Blaine’s neck and hid his face in the crook. He didn’t know why it was so important exactly, but it was, and Blaine nodded, seeming to understand. Kurt groaned in pleasant submission when Blaine hoisted him up around his waist and kissed him fierce and deep. Kurt kissed back, hanging on desperately around Blaine’s neck and letting himself be carried to the bed and laid down, Blaine climbing up and straddling him, fully dressed and kissing him slow. 

 

They kissed for a long time, getting lost in it, satisfied to linger on the familiar: Stroking one another's hair and face gently as they kissed, running their lips from jawline to neck, nuzzling at ears. There was no need to rush; this time they didn’t have to stop.   
But after a time, with a final searching kiss, Blaine pulled away. He looked into Kurt's eyes, his thumb caressing Kurt's face. And Kurt caught his breath at the love shining from Blaine's eyes, mingled with desire. Blaine slid down on the bed, and knelt on the floor between Kurt’s dangling legs. 

 

Kurt sat up and ran his fingers through Blaine’s hair. His pulse was already racing, but still, he forced himself to wait, not to push, to let Blaine set the pace. Kurt’s breath hitched, as Blaine deliberately untied Kurt’s shoe and removed it, setting it next to him, then the other neatly by its side. Kurt's cock was straining against his pants but he kept watching Blaine slide the socks off, running his hands over Kurt's calves. He stood to pull Kurt’s pants and underwear down and off, Kurt lifting his hips up to help, and actually walked away to drape them over a chair.

 

Finally, Blaine returned to stare down at Kurt, with darkened eyes flickering over Kurt's body hungrily for a moment before he gently guided Kurt to lie down. He sat beside him on the bed and gave a long, lingering, appreciative appraisal before even reaching to stroke a hand over Kurt’s bare chest, fingering the nipples with a feather touch, and then running his palm down Kurt’s abdomen. Kurt’s heart pounded almost audibly while he watched Blaine, still fully dressed, explore his body teasingly slow. Blaine took his time, easing his palm over Kurt’s hip and along the crease at Kurt’s groin, then back again, circling the skin gently and sending warm, tingling shivers down Kurt’s spine. 

 

“You’re so perfect,” Blaine breathed reverently. His hand came to rest on Kurt's erection, cupping it and gently petting it with a fascinated smile. His fingers loosely curled over it, his thumb lightly brushing the oozing head. He flickered a glance up at Kurt’s eyes, so calm, so in control of the situation that Kurt quaked and arched up into Blaine's hand. Chuckling, Blaine closed his fist tighter and started firm, but not too tight strokes, as he leaned over and ran his tongue over Kurt’s hardened nipple.

 

Kurt gasped at the sudden aching pleasure, jerking up. He sat up and hiked over to lean against Blaine, propping his head against Blaine's, looking down at his cock in Blaine's hand. “I love you so much,” he whispered, eyes half-lidded with pleasure at the long-awaited intimacy. 

 

“Love you more,” Blaine murmured, between tiny kisses to Kurt’s lips. Kurt’s head lolled on Blaine’s shoulder, savoring this closeness. Kurt groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and listening to Blaine’s breath getting faster while Blaine, with surprising expertise, slowly and deliberately jerked him off. 

 

When Kurt could barely stand the buildup another moment, Blaine suddenly slid down to kneel on the floor in front of Kurt. He gently moved Kurt's legs apart and kissed his belly, nuzzling his face in like an affectionate, playful kitten. Letting out a contented sigh, he suddenly swallowed Kurt’s hard length fully in one fluid, effortless motion. Kurt let out a surprised moan as his erection hit the back of Blaine’s throat. He realized anew that Blaine was no shy, inexperienced boy. He was a man, one who knew very well how to give pleasure and who got off on doing it. 

 

Blaine’s pace was no longer leisurely or slow. He griped Kurt’s hips firmly, guiding Kurt to thrust up into his mouth. Kurt stroked Blaine’s hair, whispering hoarse words of love and encouragement. He watched in awe as Blaine’s mouth filled and stretched around his dick, Blaine's head moved steadily up and down between his legs. 

 

The pressure started building inside him, until Kurt cried out - - the wet, tight heat, Blaine’s tongue licking along his length while he sucked him off, was too good, too fast - - “I’m - - I’m going to - - Blaine,” he whined, “I’m coming - -” and Blaine abruptly pulled off, heaving and flushed, and backed away from the bed again just when Kurt was about to climax. 

 

Kurt gasped heavily and watched as Blaine stripped off his jacket and shirt, flinging them across the room. He opened his pants, just enough to pull his cock free, and started stroking himself while he rummaged in the night stand, so comfortable with his own body that it made Kurt dizzy with desire. Finally Blaine tossed a bottle on the bed, kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks, and dropped his pants. Kurt hiked himself up on the bed, against the pillows, and eagerly watched Blaine as he picked up the bottle and carefully slicked up his own cock and moved toward the bed. 

 

“W- wait,” Kurt gasped just as Blaine was starting to clamber up on the bed. Kurt hardly believing he was saying it. “I want to look at you,” he explained breathlessly. Blaine’s face took on a surprised, then pleased look. Teasingly, and with brazen confidence, he placed one foot on the bed and made “jazz hands” at his crotch level, announcing “Ta-da!” Rolling his eyes, Kurt laughed out loud, kicking out with his foot at Blaine’s leg. “C’mere and let me really look at you, you little brat,” he smiled lovingly. “I’ve waited forever for a glimpse of your bare ass, let me enjoy it.”

 

Mischievous eyes still twinkling, Blaine knelt on the bed between Kurt’s parted legs, the teasing, silly look fading to pure love and worship, and Kurt reached out a hand to touch his face tenderly, then ran a hand down Blaine’s toned shoulders, admiring. He skimmed Blaine’s slim waist, then over and through the masculine trail of hair leading downward, enjoying Blaine’s shiver and moan at his touch. “Not laughing anymore, are you, wise guy?” he murmured as he stroked his fingers teasingly over the straining erection jutting out underneath it. “God, you’re so beautiful, Blaine,” he praised, looking back up into Blaine’s eyes adoringly. “Everything I’ve dreamed you would be.” He slid both hands around and rested them on Blaine’s pert, pronounced ass, and drew him closer gently. It was time to end the waiting and dreaming, and to come together and love each other. 

 

Blaine bit his lip, tears swimming in his eyes as he leaned forward to kiss Kurt's open mouth, his face, his neck, his mouth again, bringing them back to a hazy, love-drunk pace. He slipped his hand into Kurt’s, smearing it with lube, and then lowered himself down, their hips lining up together as they started to rock and slide back and forth. Kurt could finally feel Blaine everywhere, feel his breathing, his heart pounding crazily, his hardened nipples scraping pleasantly against Kurt’s chest. “Love you,” Kurt moaned, pulling back to look into his angel's eyes. 

 

Blaine gasped “I love you” in return before placing their slippery hands around their both their cocks. “So much,” Blaine gasped, thrusting his hips back and forth into the tight circle of their joined hands. Their cocks slid against each other, perfect and slow and electric. 

 

Kurt’s eyes never left Blaine’s. He drew his knees up alongside Blaine’s hips and rocked in time, so slow and gentle at first, building up to hard and fast and desperate. Landing his flailing free hand on the curve of Blaine’s ass, he pulled on it desperately to urge him on, while trying to hold on as long as he could to the pleasure and the intimacy between them. As he continued his rocking motions against Blaine's hips, he hung on tighter with every jerk of his hips under Blaine's, every delicious slide of their dicks against each other, every sharp intake of breath, every cry and moan they drew from each other. 

 

When building pleasure started nearing its peak, Blaine rested his forehead against Kurt’s, his face filmed with sweat, his breath coming faster. Kurt closed his eyes, body thrashing with the force and sensation of their movements against each other, trying desperately to retain some amount of self-control. The thought of the neighbors was all that inhibited him from screaming the way he really wanted to. So good, so good, but we can’t let them hear us, have to be quiet - - oh God please - - he thought with a deep moan that sounded like it came from someone else. 

 

Blaine was clearly unconcerned about being heard, as his moans had become more like shouts. All hope of keeping the noise down was lost when the bed began slamming against the wall over and over as they moved against each other desperately, rocking the bed, until Blaine's entire body stiffened and jerked above his, and Blaine came with a moan, spilling hot and wet over their linked hands. The sight and sound of Blaine’s orgasm was too much, and Kurt involuntarily wailed Blaine’s name to the heavens before he followed after, held tight and safe in Blaine's arms as he finally let go. It didn’t matter. Right now all he cared about was riding out the waves of pleasure as Blaine lazily jerked him through his release. If there were consequences to be had later, so be it.

 

Loving Blaine had been worth it.

 

~ * ~

 

At six in the morning, Kurt stirred and blinked awake in the rosy dawning light. He was achy and sore in the best way; they had made love over and over again, exploring each other and loving each other until they were exhausted. He stretched lazily, looking down at Blaine curled against his shoulder, gently stroking Kurt’s chest with his knuckles. “Hey,” he whispered. “What woke you up?” He planted a kiss on the top of Blaine’s head.

 

Blaine's eyes were dazed and blinking. “I never even went to sleep.”

 

Kurt sat up at that. “Oh, no ... Blaine … wasn't it good for you last night? Did I do something wrong and not realize?”

 

“Silly." Blaine murmured, rubbing his face against Kurt's shoulder like a sleepy kitten. “I’m still awake because I’m so happy. I want to keep feeling you next to me and remembering everything.” He yawned and stretched his toned, olive-skinned arms above his head before dropping them around Kurt. “I just feel so safe. Happy. Safer and happier than I’ve felt since I was five years old.” He pressed a soft kiss to Kurt’s bare collarbone and snuggled up. Kurt felt such relief and tenderness that he had to breathe deeply before he could speak. 

 

“You can go to sleep, honey. Hopefully, I’ll make you feel safe and happy every day. I want to.”

 

Blaine smiled drowsily, eyelids dropping. “Hold me while I fall asleep?” 

 

Kurt pulled him close and cuddled him until his breathing evened out, treasuring this moment of pure joy and watching its source sleeping peacefully beside him.


	13. The Honeymoon Phase

June 2015

 

Kurt tapped on the door to the guidance office at NYADA Prep, the notice for Blaine’s parent-counselor conference in his hand. He swallowed nervously while waiting for the guidance counselor to open it, and looked down, checking the French cuffs on his shirt, and straightening his tie. He figured he looked at least twenty-five in this thousand-dollar suit borrowed from the Vogue vault. Like an authority figure, not a college student. Not Blaine’s lover. It'll be okay. Nobody will suspect - -

 

The door swung open and a very attractive man in a form-fitting sweater and neatly tailored slacks was holding out his hand to shake his. “I’m Frank Gerardi, the guidance counselor for the junior class here” he smiled, all bright shiny smile and sparkling hazel eyes. He looked almost like a thirty year old version of Blaine, and Kurt immediately liked him because of the resemblance. 

 

“You must be Mr. Hummel?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Gerardi, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Kurt shook the man’s hand, noticing the firm grip. It might be his imagination … but he thought Mr. Gerardi was holding on just a beat longer than strictly necessary. He smiled politely and freed his hand.

 

“Call me Frank. Come on in and have a seat.” Frank gestured to the desk in the center of the room.

 

Kurt took a seat opposite the desk and looked around. Frank’s office was small, but there were surprisingly tasteful works of art on the walls by a well known gay New York City painter. Prints, of course, but nicely framed, and Kurt’s eyes lingered on them while Frank sat at the desk and opened a file. 

 

“Those are lovely,” he commented. “Ross Bleckner, right?”

 

“Yes,” Frank said, glancing up at them. “I love his work, don’t you, Mr. Hummel?”

 

"Call me Kurt. Yes, Bleckner's work is wonderful," Kurt nodded. “So beautiful, but so sad …” he smiled slightly at Frank. “But let’s talk about Blaine. How’s he doing?”

 

“He's doing quite well. As you know, he’s president of the junior class … straight A’s. More extracurriculars than I’d think possible for one kid to manage, but he’s doing it. I’d say he’s on the fast track to NYADA. I understand you and Ms. Berry both go there. I imagine you’ll be encouraging him to go there?”

 

Kurt crossed his legs awkwardly. “Well, if he wants to. I don’t think he should have to go to NYADA just because his sister does. In fact, I’m a little concerned that with her reputation there, for good and … well, less good … Blaine might be under a lot of pressure following in her footsteps. I'd like to see him at least consider another school. Maybe Tisch or Juilliard. He’s a wonderful pianist, you know. There’s just so many things he excels at … performance, singing, acting. And he’s so smart!” Kurt enthused. Frank raised an eyebrow and Kurt hesitated, catching himself. He tugged on the impeccable front seam of his trousers at the knee, and shifted in the chair. “Well, I don’t have to tell you that as his guidance counselor, I’m sure.”

 

Frank nodded, picking up the folder. “Yes, he has done wonderfully here, and I’ll keep your thoughts in mind about other schools for Blaine. Next year will be college application time, and Blaine will have his choice of schools with his record here and his SATs. This is a summary of his transcript and all his standardized testing scores.”

 

Kurt took the folder Frank handed him and looked over the scores carefully, his pride in his accomplished boyfriend growing by the second. As he perused the list, Frank remarked, “It’s really wonderful what an interest you’ve taken in Blaine. I’ve spoken to his sister many times, and I’m glad Blaine has that type of support at home. He’s had a very difficult life, and probably needs more support than even the average teenager. He’s very lucky to have you two as guardians.”

 

Kurt coughed slightly, setting the folder on the desk. “Well, Rachel is his guardian, not me. I’m just a friend of the family, helping out while she’s away. It sounds like everything is going according to plan, so …”

 

“Well, there is one area that we’re concerned about with regard to Blaine.”

 

“What? Something’s wrong?"

 

Frank waved a hand. “Don’t be too alarmed, Kurt … it’s just that there may be a slight issue with Blaine's private life that his school psychologist has raised.”

 

Feeling himself getting pale, Kurt whispered, “Psychologist? I don’t understand. He seems perfectly fine to me. And he’s got a lot of friends, and most of them are great kids - - ”

 

“The prom was last week, you’re aware?”

 

“I - I think Blaine mentioned - -”

 

“Are you and his sister aware that he took an older gentleman to the prom, and that they seemed extremely … intimate? Some of the teachers were chaperones and were concerned about the age difference.”

 

Kurt gulped. “I - I had no idea - -”

 

“I figured as much. His name is Dr. VanDelay. The chaperones told me that he seemed young for a doctor, but of course he’d have to be at least 25, possibly older.”

 

Kurt passed a hand over his eyes wearily. Blaine had come up with what he believed was a brilliant plan of inventing an alias for Kurt to use at the prom with everyone but Blaine’s closest friends, who all knew who Kurt was, of course, and were sworn to secrecy. Unfortunately, Blaine’s irrepressible sense of humor had taken over and the story had grown in ridiculousness with every introduction Blaine made. By the end of the night, he was Dr. VanDeLay, Assistant Chief of Emergency Proctology at NYU. It had seemed funny and harmless enough at the time, but he hadn’t considered the possible fallout from Blaine’s antics.

 

“Well, technically, Blaine is 17 and he’s old enough to see whoever he wants, even - - even a doctor,” Kurt said feebly.

 

“We realize that's true, legally, but still we thought you and his sister should be aware. And what's concerning is that Blaine has been going to regular counseling once a week with our school psychologist, Ms. Shen, since he got here, and hid this relationship from her.”

 

“Oh?” Kurt asked, sweat breaking out in a fine film over his face.

 

“Blaine had previously told her in their therapy sessions that he had no relationship or interest in having any. The fact that he hasn’t been honest in therapy is concerning. And when she brought up Dr. VanDeLay in session this morning, he was borderline rude and told her he was of legal age and his relationship is none of her business. He walked out of the session."

 

Kurt sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that."

 

"Yes. Blaine needs therapy even if he seems, on the surface at least, to be coping adequately with his issues. Ms. Shen feels strongly that he’s still working through his grief reaction to losing his parents, and may be looking for a father figure in this man. She met Dr. VanDeLay at the prom, and felt that he was evasive, which made her even more concerned.”

 

“I see…” Kurt remembered Blaine’s school psychologist. She was very young, very persistent, and very perceptive, and he’d quickly realized that he needed to cut the conversation short and escape at the earliest opportunity. But he wasn’t able to do so until after Blaine, a little tipsy from spiked punch, had regaled her proudly with tales from the emergency room exploits of the fictional Dr. VanDeLay, most of them taken from Blaine’s recollection of his beloved George Clooney’s character on "ER".

 

“Ms. Shen asked to see you when you came in, actually. She’d like to discuss all this with you in person.”

 

Kurt’s head popped up, and he searched wildly in his mind for something, anything, to get out of this as Frank picked up the phone to buzz the psychologist.

 

“Oh, is that the time!” Kurt practically shouted. “I - I’m sorry. I have a class to get to. I can’t meet with her right now, but … but I’ll call her later, okay?”

 

He stood up quickly, jutting his hand out to shake Frank’s, who again gripped it a bit longer than necessary. “Certainly, Kurt. Er … listen, I know this is borderline inappropriate, but I’d love to buy you a cup of coffee whenever your class gets out …”

 

“I’m sorry, but I’m in a relationship,” Kurt said abruptly, desperate to get out of the school. He’d forgotten about the chaperones at the prom, and worried that at any moment one of them might walk in here and recognize him as "Dr. VanDeLay". He backed away, panicking, and banged his head into Frank’s door as he opened it with too much haste.

 

“Kurt … I apologize if I offended you - - “

 

But Kurt had fled.

 

As he raced down the hallway, the dismissal bell rang, and students poured out of their classrooms around him. “Hey, Dr. VanDeLay!” one called. He groaned and turned, seeing a casual friend of Blaine’s from his LGBT Student Union club that he’d met at prom. 

 

“Hello … Stuart, isn’t it?” he said, nervously looking around at the milling students.

 

“That’s right, sir. Here to pick up Blaine? He’s talking to his Drama teacher. Room 108.”

 

“Th- thanks - - Stuart. Have a good day.” He hurried to room 108 and stood outside, his head down, until Blaine bounced out of the door. He grabbed Blaine by the arm. 

 

“Hey, Kurt! My conference all done? Did they tell you what a good boy I am?” 

 

Kurt glared at him. “Keep it down, will you?”

 

Blaine blinked. “What? Why?”

 

“I’m known as Dr. VanDeLay all over this school because of you and your prom,” Kurt hissed. “Not Kurt, remember? You’re cut off from watching Seinfeld reruns. Or ER for that matter.”

 

“Kurt, it’s okay, remember? I told most of the people your full name is Kurt VanDeLay. See how I think of everything?” Blaine said, vastly pleased with himself.

 

“Blaine, just get your stuff from your locker and let’s go, okay? We're going to have a long conversation about this at home, including what happened with your counselor today. I'll meet you at the subway station. I need to leave before anything else goes wrong." He started away down the hall.

 

“Are you mad at me?” Blaine called after him plaintively. “What did I do wrong?”

 

Kurt stopped in the now empty hallway and looked back at Blaine, clutching his bookbag tightly and looking almost frightened. His eyes were enormous, and swimming with tears.

 

“Are you going to break up with me?” he quavered. "I left session because she was asking too many questions... I thought I was doing the right thing for us..."

 

Kurt bit his lip, and returned to Blaine, ashamed. “No. Honey, you … you didn’t do anything wrong. It was my fault for not thinking everything through before coming to the prom. It’ll be okay … any other conferences I’ll do by phone so this won’t be an issue. And soon we’ll tell Rachel and then all this secrecy won’t be necessary --and you can be honest with your counselor. You should be totally honest in therapy. Okay, baby?”

 

He looked up and down the hallway and leaned in for a quick kiss on Blaine’s cheek. He reached up and brushed a tear that had escaped from the corner of Blaine’s eye. Blaine looked reassured, but as they left the building together, not holding hands, Kurt sighed. Lucky that the school year was nearly over and they could tell Rachel soon. This situation was getting entirely too complicated.

 

~ *~ *~ *~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

Blaine stirred in his sleep. His phone … his phone was buzzing … what time was it? It was still dark in the apartment, and he had fallen asleep in the damp spot on the bed … with Kurt draped across his bare chest. He grimaced; they had been too worn out to even clean up last night and they were both sticky and sweaty and frankly, a bit stinky. Kurt’s hair was standing every which way in that adorable manner it always did after sex, and Blaine snuggled his love close with one arm while absently grabbing the phone and looking at it. Six a.m. They’d had only three hours’ sleep, but Kurt had an early class, so might as well get up. The number was unfamiliar, but he flicked the phone to answer it, his voice scratchy and hoarse, his throat sore from crying out Kurt’s name and taking Kurt’s cock a few too many times last night. He managed to croak, “Hello?”

 

“Hey Blainey-bear! It’s me! Rachel! Do you feel okay? That sounds like strep throat.”

 

“Oh - - Rae,” he said, shoving Kurt’s shoulder and rolling him over onto his belly. Unfortunately, that exposed Kurt’s back view which was one of his favorite views of Kurt, tied possibly with the front view, the side view, the upside down view …

 

“Rehearsals are going great. I just called because I missed you. Is Kurt looking out for you properly, or do I need to come home?”

 

“He’s doing a great job,” Blaine said, looking fondly at Kurt, who had scrunched up in the bed, his backside now up in the air as he curled around his pillow. “Don’t worry about me at all. I’m fine.”

 

“I know Kurt’s got an early class. Can you check to see if he’s up? I want to say hi.”

 

“Sure.” He put down the phone against his chest and bellowed, “Hey! KURT! You up yet?” at a deafening volume, jerking Kurt awake with an adorable gasp as he sat up, bleary-eyed and confused, his mouth hanging open and his hair still sticking out sideways.

 

“He’s coming,” Blaine said sunnily, tossing the phone to Kurt. “Rachel.”

 

“Oh - oh,” Kurt said groggily. “Hey Rachel. How’s rehearsal coming?” He wiped his eyes and shoved Blaine away irritably when he tried to mouth at his neck. Kurt gave one of his warning looks, but Blaine just inched closer, reaching a hand into Kurt’s lap toward the morning erection that stood there temptingly. Kurt slapped him away. His voice strained and hoarse, he rasped, "No, Rachel, I … I don’t have strep throat like Blaine. We’re both okay.” He paused, glaring at Blaine, who had given up trying to tease him and had jumped up naked as a jaybird from the bed, strolling happily to the linen shelf to grab a towel, pleasantly aware of Kurt’s admiring eyes on him. He gave Kurt a long, lingering look in return. Kurt turned bright red talking on the phone, and Blaine grinned, then skipped off to the bathroom.

 

He turned on the shower to get the hot water running, and leaned out of the door, giving Kurt a stage whisper, “C’mon - - hot water should be ready in a minute, get rid of her.” More loudly, he shouted, “Talk to you later, Rae! Miss you!” before returning to the bathroom to pee and then jump in the shower. He was half lathered up when he heard the toilet flush again, and screamed shrilly at the frigid water showering down over him. A sour but still adorable looking Kurt pulled the curtain away from the tiled wall. 

 

“Do not wake me up with a call from your sister again. I need at least three cups of coffee to deal with her first thing in the morning.”

 

“S- s- s- sorry,” Blaine chattered, grateful when the water turned warmer slowly. Kurt shouldered his way under the spray, his eyelids still at half-mast, ignoring him pointedly.

 

Standing on tiptoe to try to get some warm backsplash, Blaine hooked his chin over Kurt's shoulder and wheedled, “Kurt, I'm sorry for waking you up so rudely. I’ll make you a nice breakfast before you go to make up for it.”

 

Kurt was looking more amenable already under the warm water. He twisted to grab Blaine on his way out of the shower, pulling him into his arms under the spigot, letting the water cascade over them both, and rocking them side-to-side gently. “No,” he murmured, yawning and still half-drowsy as he always was in the morning, his erection nudging against Blaine’s hip. “Make it up to me in here,” he demanded, before his damp lips took Blaine’s in a soggy, sweet kiss.

 

July 2015

 

The next month during Rachel’s out-of-town run was a lovers’ paradise for Kurt and Blaine. It wasn’t just that the barriers had been swept away so they could, and did, take every opportunity to love each other in every sense of the word. It was that with Rachel safely out of town, they could relax and just be them, together. Blaine got a job as a singing waiter at the Starlight Diner a few blocks from Kurt's office, and they met every day for lunch and dinner before traveling home, tired but happy, on the late train to Brooklyn. Kurt hadn’t known it was possible to be as happy as they were in that honeymoon-like time.

 

But amid his new happiness, Kurt worried about how they would keep Rachel in the dark once she moved back in. Yes, he and Blaine had done it before, when they had first started dating. But it was different now that they'd gotten used to this level of freedom. He had no idea how to go backwards and pretend they were just friends again. Blaine was unpredictable at best and it would be a big strain hiding his own feelings. He adored the silly, affectionate, fun-loving, romantic young man Blaine had become beyond all reason or ability to hide it. As a result, there were so many people who already knew or suspected … Sebastian, most of Blaine’s NYADA Prep friends, Adam, and Elliott. Recently Santana and Brittany had spotted them out together and blabbed the secret to Mercedes, Sam, and Artie. There was only so long this could remain an open secret from everybody except the one person who mattered most.

 

Blaine was the real deal for him, the love of his life, so there was no question of “if” but only when and how Rachel would be told. She would return soon to New York for rehearsals for the Broadway run of her play, and after discussing the issue in depth, they had finally agreed to wait until after opening night to tell her. Which meant, of course, lying and hiding until then, however little it suited their basically honest natures.

 

The day before Rachel’s scheduled return, Kurt and Blaine purged the apartment of any signs of their forbidden romance. In the morning, they brought their sheets and bedding to the laundromat and then remade the beds, as if Rachel might apply a blue light to them and discover their secret. They went through their computers and iPhones, and transferred any pictures or messages that couldn't bear inspection, off their devices to an SD card. They gathered the SD card and the pressed flowers, love notes, and tokens of affection they'd amassed thus far into a locked box, to be brought to Kurt's office for safekeeping. They returned any articles of clothing or grooming that had migrated to the other’s living space. And they tried to practice keeping their hands to themselves for the whole day, to reacclimate themselves to it. 

 

But it was a lost cause; the whole day of sexual tension, guilt, and sadness over the changes ahead made them testy and irritable, resulting in a nasty and extremely stupid argument over dinner. Their very first real lovers' quarrel since the smaller blowup over Elliott Gilbert months ago. 

 

Which of course ended in remorseful tears, heartfelt apologies and frantic kisses, in sweeping the dishes off the kitchen table and onto the floor as they both continued to cry and apologize and kiss all at once. Pulling open Blaine’s belt and shoving his pants down past Blaine’s hips, Kurt turned him and bent him over the table, snapping open his own button- fly jeans deftly with one hand. There wasn't time to go to the bedroom, or even to fully undress, they were too needy and desperate. With a shaking hand, he carefully readied Blaine, with one of the spare packets of lube that still seemed to populate all of his cardigan pockets. 

 

Before very long, Blaine was hanging onto the edge of the table, writhing and begging. So Kurt sank into the tight heat with a relieved whimper and arched his back, eyes falling shut briefly at the perfect fit that they always made. 

 

How could they go back to how it was before? How could they stop? 

 

Blaine was wriggling desperately in protest, urging him to move, and Kurt opened his eyes and stroked Blaine's back reassuringly under his shirt, pushing it up to see. He drew back and in again, and again, watching himself sliding in and out slowly at first and then faster and faster while Blaine clenched around him tightly.

 

Right now, they wouldn't stop, not yet, they didn’t have to. Not yet, thank god; they had tonight. Kurt braced his feet and held on to Blaine's hips, pulling him back and forth in time with his own.

 

They had never gone this fast or rough before, but Blaine was rocking back and forth in a state of raw pleasure, begging for more and harder and faster. Kurt leaned over, letting go of Blaine's waist a moment and threading his fingers through Blaine's. He ran his lips over the perfect little shell of Blaine’s ear, whispering loving, reassuring words and promises, making sure he was okay. “I'm okay - don't stop - I wanna feel it tomorrow,” Blaine babbled, "the day after, please Kurt, please!" Kurt groaned and gave him what they both wanted. 

 

They were lost to each other, both their moans turning louder and more reckless. Kurt paid no mind to the vibrating phone in his cardigan pocket or the ringing one in Blaine’s pants near his ankles a minute later. All he could hear was Blaine’s voice crying his name, all he could see was Blaine’s round, bare bottom as he moved his hips against it, sliding into him over and over, through Blaine’s release, and then his own a second later, his vision growing blurry with the force of it.

 

When Kurt regained his senses, Blaine gasped in shock and scrambled out from under him… and Kurt looked up to see Rachel, home a day early and standing in the doorway, her eyes full of hurt and rage.

 

~ * ~

 

“Get out!” Rachel screamed, angrier than Kurt had ever seen her. “Get out of my apartment. Get out of my life. And get out of my brother’s life!” Her eyes were flowing with furious tears.

 

“Don’t say that, Rachel,” Blaine begged, as he hastened to finish re-fastening his belt buckle. “Please don’t stop being friends just because I’m in love with Kurt. This shouldn’t change anything between you - -”

 

"I don’t blame you for this, Blaine. It’s not your fault. Kurt is the adult and he should have known better. Now he has to leave.”

 

“I'm not a child! The age of consent is seventeen! I'm legal!" 

 

“Barely! Was this the first time?” Rachel asked, her eyes still fixed on Kurt.

 

“No .. but … “

 

“You were having a relationship before I left town? While Blaine was still sixteen?”

 

“Yes, but we didn’t make love until I turned seventeen. Kurt insisted on that, Rae--"

 

Kurt couldn’t contain his genuine tears of shame and regret. "I never wanted you to find out this way. I didn’t want to lie to you. I love Blaine so much, and we haven’t done anything we shouldn’t. We waited until he was old enough. I swear.” He moved toward Rachel but she backed away, repulsed.

 

“So ...let me understand this,” Rachel said, her eyes narrowed and her voice cutting. “Blaine was a sixteen year old kid who lost his parents. He only had me to look out for him, and I trusted you living here alone with him -- I left you in charge of him. My best friend," she choked out, her face twisting. "And you lied to me.” She shook her head, her fists curled at her sides. “And now I’m supposed to believe you didn’t have sex before his birthday? As if that makes this okay? All I know is this isn't healthy or right and I want it stopped!"

 

“You can’t stop us,” Blaine cut in. “We love each other. We’re meant to be together. I’ll run away if you make Kurt leave--"

 

“Blaine, no,” Kurt choked out. “No. I can’t let that happen." Kurt knew what he had to do. God, it hurt, but he had to. He hurried to his room with Blaine trailing close behind.

 

Kurt grabbed a bag, throwing things into it blindly. "I can't come between you two. Rachel’s your guardian. Your family. I'll go."

 

“You’re my soulmate,” Blaine cried, clutching at Kurt’s hands, trying to stop him. “That’s more important than family, than friends, than anything!”

 

Rachel appeared at the entrance to Kurt's room. “I'll go to the police if I have to. I don't believe this was innocent while you were underage. We'll see if the cops do," she threatened. “If they don’t, that means you'll have to register as a sex offender. Try getting a job with that on your record.”

 

Blaine turned around and stared at Rachel in horror. “You wouldn’t - - -”

 

Rachel hesitated. “I don't want to,” she said, her voice shaking. “But I would to protect you, Blaine. Kurt took advantage of a position of authority and trust. It doesn't matter that you wanted it. Kurt, are you leaving or ... am I calling the police?” 

 

Not looking at Blaine’s pleading eyes, Kurt answered, “I’m leaving. I’ll go stay at Mercedes’ for now.” He spotted the box of things he’d locked up earlier in the day, and put it in the bag to take with him, all he would have left of the love of his life, at least for now.

 

Kurt dared to rest his hand on Blaine’s cheek, despite Rachel’s outraged eyes on him. “I have to go, honey. You heard your sister. I can’t break up a family. And … maybe Rachel’s right,” he finished miserably. “Maybe I should have resisted temptation. You’re so vulnerable … you were like my baby brother …”

 

Blaine raked his hands through his own hair, his eyes bulging in disbelief first at Rachel and now at Kurt. “That’s crazy! What we have isn’t wrong. Rachel’s bluffing, she wouldn’t call the police, and if she did, I’d just tell them the truth - - that we didn’t do anything illegal. Kurt, please! I can’t lose you- -”

 

Rachel picked up her cellphone. 

 

Blaine fell for what Kurt believed was a calculated bluff on Rachel's part, and grabbed the phone out of her hand. “No! Don’t call the police! Don’t get Kurt in trouble! I’ll … I’ll do whatever you tell me to,” Blaine whispered, miserable and defeated. 

 

Kurt was defeated too. He knew Rachel wouldn't really carry out her threat, but the disappointment and condemnation in her eyes devastated him as much as any guilty verdict from a jury ever could. 

 

“Goodbye, Blaine.” Kurt went to the door, looking back a final time. “I love you.”

 

~ * ~

 

Blaine rang the doorbell at Mercedes’ brownstone apartment, and raised his eyebrows when Sam, in just his boxers, opened it. The sounds of MarioKart were deafening in the room behind him. “Hey, dude,” Sam greeted. “C’mon in.”

 

“Why are you in your underwear?” Blaine asked, not sure if he really wanted to know.

 

“We’re playing strip MarioKart.” 

 

“Ah,” Blaine remarked, noting that Artie, Brittany and Santana were in various stages of undress in the living room, MarioKart controllers in their hands and a tray of jello shots on the table. He waved. And I’m supposedly the immature kid in the group, he couldn’t help but think. Unbelievable. “I’m here to see Kurt, actually. I haven’t been able to reach him by phone or online. I’m getting scared.”

 

Brittany looked blankly up at him, while Sam and Artie avoided his gaze. “Uh … don’t know, Blaine,” Sam said, turning red as he always did on the rare occasions when he told less than the one hundred percent truth. "He moved out and didn't leave a forwarding address." Artie shrugged, “Sorry, yo.”

 

Santana looked pityingly at him. “We’re sorry we can’t tell you more, shortcake.”

 

“You all expect me to believe that you don’t know where he is?” Blaine looked around at all of them, pleading with his eyes. “I won’t bother him or pester him if he doesn’t … doesn’t love me anymore. I just want to see that for myself, and if it’s true then I deserve a chance to say goodbye, to tell him …” he broke off, covering his eyes with his hand. “I want to see him one last time and tell him he made me the happiest man in the world for a while … and thank him for what we had - - I - - Please, guys - I need to see him - -” 

 

Suddenly Mercedes was standing in the doorway of the living room, her beautiful eyes full of sympathy. “C’mon sweetheart. Into the kitchen away from these fools in their underwear,” she said disdainfully. “And I know y’all aren’t doing jello shots or sitting bare-bottomed on my furniture, if you know what’s good for you!” she bellowed, startling Blaine and sending the group scrambling to clean up the littered tiny cups.

 

Blaine followed Mercedes into the kitchen, where she sat him down at the table. “You want anything to drink? I have lemonade in here, or - -”

 

“I just want Kurt to see me,” Blaine said. “I deserve that. He can’t just - abandon me, Mercedes. I need him. And it’s … it’s unbearable at home. Rachel won’t give me a moment’s peace. The only way I got to come here was to pretend I got sick at work and sneak over. She took away my phone and my computer. She’s treating me like a baby, and making Kurt leave was the worst of it. I hate her!” he exclaimed through his tears. 

 

“You done?” Mercedes asked, pouring two lemonades and setting one down in front of him. “Drink that and calm down a minute. It’s good, I made it from scratch.”

 

Blaine picked up the glass and guzzled it down obediently. Setting down the glass and wiping his mouth, he begged, “Mercedes, please. Please just tell me where he is and - - and I won’t tell Rachel I found out from you. I swear.”

 

“It’s not about me worrying they’ll be mad at me, sweetheart. I can’t go against what your sister wants. What Kurt wants. And that’s for you to spend some time apart, munchkin. Try to be patient. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be, when the time’s right.”

 

He closed his eyes. 

 

"Does he know he’s breaking my heart?”

 

Mercedes smiled sadly. “He knows. If it helps you to know, his heart is broken too.”

 

"No." Blaine got up to leave. “It doesn’t help.”

 

~ * ~ 

 

August 2015

 

It was early Sunday morning in Manhattan, and Kurt was wandering the empty city streets in the cooling rain. He hadn’t slept at all last night, longing for Blaine’s arms around him despite the blistering heat. The rain smelled clean and the pouring drops washed away the traces of his tears. 

 

He’d cried so many tears for Blaine, and for himself. Tears of loss, of shame, of self-doubt and guilt. Was Rachel right? Did he take advantage of Blaine’s youth and vulnerability? Blaine seemed, if anything, more mature than the average seventeen-year-old. He had suffered so much and had come through it still able to give and feel so much love and joy, and he always had seemed strong and emotionally healthy. But who was Kurt to determine that? What if Blaine’s past made him more vulnerable, not less? Should he have kept fighting what they felt for each other and not given in to it? Rachel had planted thoughts in his mind that grew and tormented him.

 

Regardless of whether he'd hurt Blaine by loving him, his abandonment certainly was hurting Blaine now. But what choice did he have? Rachel was Blaine’s legal guardian, and had laid down the law. He couldn’t go behind her back again; he couldn’t encourage Blaine to openly defy her without destroying her relationship with Blaine. He needed to back away no matter how it hurt. 

 

Plodding sadly up the stairs to his walk-up, he shivered in his soaked clothes that stuck to his skin. The rain had felt so cleansing and pure, but now he just felt chilled and dirty.

 

Opening the door to his floor, he stopped, confused. There were two police officers knocking on his apartment door. He approached, confused, his keys in his hands.

 

“Are - - are you looking for me?” 

 

One if the officers turned to him. "Kurt Hummel?" 

 

“Yes, I’m - - - what’s this about? Oh my God - was there an accident? Is someone hurt?”

 

“No, sir, but we’d appreciate it if we could go into your apartment and take a look around. I’m Officer Johnson and this is my partner, Officer Fisher."

 

Kurt pushed his wet hair out of his eyes. “I don’t understand. What do you want in my apartment?”

 

“Is there a reason you’d rather we didn’t come in, sir?” Officer Fisher asked. She was a few years younger than her partner, with soft red hair frizzling around her face. “Most people don’t have a problem with it.”

 

Kurt looked from one officer to another, then hesitantly nodded. “Okay, you can come in if you want to, but I’m going to need to know what this is about pretty soon.”

 

He unlocked the door. Officer Fisher went to the bathroom and opened the door, going inside. Kurt heard the shower curtain being pulled back. Officer Johnson opened the door to the only closet in the space. 

 

Officer Fisher came out of the bathroom. “Nothing suspicious in there, Rita,” she remarked. She flicked open the bedside table and glanced into the wastebasket. “Doesn’t look like this guy has gotten any lately, or plans to anytime soon, if you know what I mean.”

 

Something occurred to Kurt, with a growing sense of dread. Rachel might have made good on her threat to call the police and have him investigated for statutory rape. Kurt seethed at the thought. Rachel should have known that he was innocent of that, at least. He'd never really believed she would report him for a crime he hadn't committed. Hatred flared up in his heart against her for the first time.

 

“You can’t go through my things without a warrant, can you?” he demanded. 

 

Officer Johnson smiled a sparkling, beautiful smile with a hint of malice in it, reminding him briefly of Santana Lopez. “You want a warrant, Mr. Hummel?” She crossed the room in a sudden, catlike movement, her hand going into her jacket, and Kurt backed up against the counter, startled. Reaching him, she slapped a warrant into his chest. “There’s your warrant, sir,” she said contemptuously. She went back to the closet and started rifling through the clothes on the hangers, looking at the labels. His hands shaking, Kurt opened the piece of paper and scanned it.

 

His heart sank. They were here looking for Blaine. Who was listed as a missing person on the warrant.

 

But Blaine wasn’t here … oh God. No. Blaine. He dropped the warrant and buried his face in his hands, willing back the tears. “How long has he been missing?” he cried out, hoarsely. “Please.”

 

“These aren’t the subject’s clothes,” Officer Johnson said, sighing. “Description is a little guy, five eight, 140 pounds. He’d be swimming in anything in here.” She turned to Kurt, who was trembling with fear over Blaine. 

 

“Before I answer your question, Mr. Hummel, I’d like an answer to a question or two. Does that seem fair?”

 

“Please - -”

 

“Does. That. Seem. Fair.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Kurt breathed out, trying to steady himself by gripping the counter behind him. 

 

“When is the last time you heard from, saw or communicated with Blaine Anderson-Berry?”

 

“July 21.”

 

Officer Johnson raised her eyebrows. “That was pretty fast, and pretty specific, sir.”

 

“It was a week after I moved out of the apartment. He called me and … asked me to come get him and … and to live with me. I told him no, his sister didn’t approve of us, and not to call again unless she said it was okay.”

 

“Did you say anything else? Did he?”

 

He couldn't see through his tears. “We said we loved each other. But I said it was over, it … it had to be, with his sister so upset about us."

 

“No contact since then?”

 

“I changed my cellphone number. I moved here. He doesn’t have any way to contact me,” Kurt said, dully. “And I haven’t tried to call him. Now, please … can you tell me anything at all? How long has he been gone? Did he and his sister have an argument - or -”

 

Officer Johnson studied Kurt a moment, and her face softened a bit. “He left for work at the Starlight Diner yesterday morning, but never arrived. Ms. Berry reported him missing when he didn’t come home last night.”

 

Kurt turned his back on the officers to hide his face. Officer Johnson added, “He's made a large cash withdrawal from his personal trust account, the largest he’s allowed to make without his trustee's signature, every day for the last week, and he took some clothes and personal effects with him, but very few. He’s made no withdrawals or purchases with the card associated with that account since yesterday. Ms. Berry contacted all his other friends and none of them admitted to knowing where he is.”

 

Officer Johnson slid her card in front of Kurt. “Sir, I understand that you care about this boy. Maybe you know where he is, and this is just a romantic escapade in your mind. But his sister is beside herself with worry. If you have any information about his whereabouts - -”

 

“I don’t,” Kurt choked. He didn’t know where Blaine was, what he was planning, why on earth he would do something like this. God, Blaine, why …

 

“Okay. If you hear from or about him, please contact this number. This family may need help, but his sister is frantic. Will you do that, sir?”

 

Kurt picked up the card and nodded, but he knew he wouldn’t hear from him. He’d broken Blaine’s heart, ruined his family, and he would never see him again. And he would live with the pain of it the rest of his life.


	14. Long Lost Friends

Chapter 14

Warning: Adult content this chapter

July 21, 2019

Kurt looked up over his glasses at the knock on the door of his corner office at Vogue. It was Isabelle Wright, a vision in gold lamé and tulle at ten in the morning. “Hello, my little protegee,” she sang, her arms outstretched. “I love, love, love, the new office, sweetheart. Or as I should say, Mr. Youngest New York Features Editor at Vogue Ever.”

“I owe it all to you, Fairy Godmother.” He rounded his desk and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He motioned to his pearl-gray mid-century-modern chaise while he poured her a cup of tea from the carafe on the table beside it.

“Not at all. Your genius would have been discovered eventually. I just had enough genius to recognize it early and give you your start.”

He handed her the cup and saucer, and then sat beside her. “So we’re both geniuses. Genii? Wait, that’s the plural for genie, I think.” 

“I consider myself both, darling.”

"With good reason." Kurt grinned. “So … it’s a bit early for lunch, but how about going out with me for brunch to catch up? Not that there’s much to report on this end … still married to the job - - no time for romance.” He laughed lightly, avoiding Isabelle’s kind, perceptive eyes. The truth was, he kept himself busy with work, and sleeping with older men who were as unlike "the one who got away" as he could manage. He hadn’t seen Blaine or spoken to him in four years, but the young man still haunted him. He shook his head, and looked up at Isabelle. “But I’d love to hear what’s new with you.”

Isabelle patted his hand. “Sounds lovely, but I just came from breakfast with a friend. I'm I’m here on business, anyway. I have something here for you." She brandished an expensive leather portfolio.

"Really? What is it?"

"Something for your column. I remembered you saying you’re at loose ends for a subject this month, and, well, there’s something in there that I think will help you."

"You're a lifesaver, Isabelle. Please, stay and visit?"

Isabelle shook her head. "Sorry...have to run. A glamorous fashion mogul's work is never done." She slid the portfolio onto his desk. "You can thank me later." She kissed her fingers at him and was gone in a shimmery flash.

He opened the portfolio and withdrew a folder labeled “Young Elvis” … he recalled reading about the project, a major studio’s biopic of Elvis Presley, though he’d heard the search for an actor to portray the icon was proving difficult. He opened the folder and jumped in his seat, startled. 

Blaine’s face stared up at him. So many pictures. Blaine, in fifties-style clothes, his arms over his head while combing back an Elvis-style pompadour. Blaine smiling. Blaine pouting. Blaine dancing. Blaine singing into an old-fashioned microphone. Kurt laughed out loud through tears at a series of action shots of Blaine fixing his bow tie in front of a mirror, then turning to wink coyly and blow a playful kiss at the camera, the same silly, naughty boy he remembered. He stopped at the last picture in the folder, a head shot of Blaine, in costume and character as Elvis. Kurt lingered over it a long time, tracing the face with his fingers and gazing at the big, beautiful eyes he remembered and had loved … golden-brown, not blue like Presley’s … but the spirit was there. The sweet, sad look. And Blaine had the playful, natural sensuality to play the part. It was perfect casting.

It had been far too long since he’d seen Blaine, or a picture of him. Thankfully, Blaine had resurfaced a few weeks after he ran away from the loft, in California, at his brother Cooper’s apartment. Cooper had called and reported Blaine was disheveled and exhausted after hitchhiking across the country, but alive and in one piece. With Cooper’s help, Blaine had elected to stay in L.A. to pursue an acting career while finishing high school. And with increasing frequency in the last four years, Kurt been startled by Blaine appearing on his TV screen in commercials, or as “Young Waiter”, “Ticket Taker", "Cell Mate" or “Preppy Student”, and a myriad of other bit parts on numerous TV shows. Every time … every time, Kurt’s heart froze and twisted in pain. It had gotten to the point that he instructed Sugar Motta, now his personal assistant, to check imdb to make sure Blaine Anderson, as he was billing himself now, didn't appear in the credits of any of his DVR’d shows, and to edit out the commercials to avoid an unexpected glimpse of Blaine. But Isabelle had bypassed all his defenses.

There was a DVD in the folder. Kurt slipped it into his computer to find an extended, unedited clip of Blaine's audition. Kurt watched Blaine bring young Elvis back to life, ending with a haunting rendition of “Love Me Tender” sung directly into the camera. Vocal coaches and other musical purists could, and probably would, quibble that Blaine had rearranged the song to suit his natural vocal range, which was higher and narrower than the legendary King's. But the necessary emotion was there. It felt like it was being sung right to Kurt’s heart, every pained, sorrowful note. 

After he checked the press information in the folder, he was sure Blaine would break through to stardom in this role; the cast, the writers, the director, all were top notch. And Kurt decided he would do something to help him. The only thing he really could anymore, so far away and so long after the fact.

When the notes of Blaine’s mournful song died away, Kurt listened to it again. And then again. And then put it on repeat while he went to work on the layout for this piece himself, poring over the pictures and tapping his column out on his computer as the lights in the other offices on the floor clicked off and he was left alone … and into the dawning light the next day. 

September 2019

“Mr. Boss-Man!” a voice sang out, shrill and piercing, from the next room. Kurt winced; Sugar Motta had appeared out of nowhere at his office door a year ago, explaining that her daddy had been indicted and all his money was impounded, or some such thing, and now she was poor and needed a job, so she was going to be his personal assistant. He distinctly recalled telling her no, but somehow she was still here, mangling his messages, accidentally disconnecting his calls, and being largely incompetent in almost all areas, except two: she made a killer cup of coffee and made his days a little more fun. He figured that was worth the salary he paid her out of his pocket.

He pressed a button on his phone and spoke into it calmly. He would never give up on the possibility that she might learn to use the intercom some day. “What is it, Sugar?” 

“You got some swag back here!” She screeched, ignoring the intercom completely. “From Blaine Anderson, that Hottie McHotterson you wrote this month’s celebrity column about!It’s a big ol’ basket of goodies! All your favorite stuff!”

Kurt went pale, then flushed with happiness. Blaine. He had read the column, and ...and he was reaching out after all this time. He was making contact. It was everything Kurt had been dreaming of for years … that Blaine would someday make an overture, would find it in his heart to forgive and come back to him, even after the way he’d abandoned the boy years ago.. Now, finally, finally, that day was here. 

His hand shaking, he pressed the button again. “Thank you, Sugar. Do you mind bringing it in?”

“No problem, Boss!” she shouted back. He got up and went to meet Sugar at the door. She came in, her entire upper body and head obscured by an enormous basket of fancy fruit and cheese. Looking at it briefly with a practiced eye, he figured it cost at least $500. Sugar’s tiny leggings-clad legs, poking out from under the basket, staggered it over to the coffee table, and he helped her set it down.

Looking over the basket, he murmured, “Thanks, Sugar … but where’s the card? What did he write?”

“Got it right here, Boss-man!” she pulled it from her bra and handed it to him. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she uncomprehendingly aped his expression back at him. Sighing, he sat down on the couch and took a deep breath, preparing for the first words from Blaine in four years. He shut his eyes to brace himself, then opened them and read: “Dear Mr. Hummel, Thank you so much for the wonderful write-up in this month’s Kurtain Kall! Very truly yours, The Daniels Group (Management for Blaine Anderson)”

Kurt’s mouth went dry and his jaw clenched.

“Hey, there’s kumquats in here! Lucky!” Sugar chirped, examining the basket.

“Get it out of here,” Kurt said through gritted teeth.

“What? Why - -”

Kurt picked up the huge basket and marched to the office door. Opening the door, he picked up the basket and hurled it with all his strength against the wall, where it crashed, mangoes, kumquats, persimmons and wheels of brie all bursting free and rolling in every direction down the hallway. “I said get rid of it! I don’t want to see a trace of this when I leave for lunch in ten minutes, do I make myself clear?”

Sugar nodded frantically, and scurried out the door, where Kurt could hear her gathering up the contents of the basket in a paper bag, no doubt to take home along with all the office supplies and toilet paper she stole on a regular basis. He stalked to the window and leaned his head against the floor-to-ceiling window, staring straight down the thirty stories to the ground and trying not to cry.

December 2019

 

“What do you mean, you’re not coming to the wedding?” Burt’s voice thundered over the phone.

“Hello to you too, Dad.”

“Never mind formalities, kiddo. I just saw your response card. Go ahead and explain what’s keeping you from your brother’s wedding. And make it good.”

Kurt tiptoed away from his bed so as not to wake the fifty-year-old financial analyst who had found his way into it last night. “I … can’t. I can’t look at her marrying Finn knowing I lost the love of my life because of her.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Any other questions?”

There was a brief silence, and then, “Yeah. What’s the real reason? You can blame Rachel all you want, but you could have gone after Blaine back in the day or anytime since. Is it her fault you didn’t?”

“In a way,” Kurt hedged, foraging in the refrigerator for the makings of his breakfast. “She made me doubt myself ... my integrity. Whether what happened between me and Blaine was wrong. That ... messed me up for a long time, Dad.” He looked over his shoulder through the bedroom door at the boring, emotionally unavailable closet-case he’d slept with the night before. “I think I’m still messed up, to be honest.”

“I get that. But all that was years ago, and she’s sorry. And she’s paid a price, too. Blaine has never spoken to her again either.”

Kurt paled. “Still?” he whispered. He left the food on the counter and went to his home office, clicking on the light and sitting at the computer.

“His ‘regrets’ card is here too. Cooper’s coming, but not Blaine. So if the real reason you’re not coming is that you’re afraid of seeing him again, you can put that out of your mind. Look. Rachel may be a big Broadway star now, but she hasn’t got a lot of family or friends."

Kurt tapped expedia.com into the browser on his computer and looked for flights to Ohio. “There’s a good reason for that. Could she even find a maid of honor? Or will she need to call central casting?"

“Santana's doing it.”

Kurt sat up straight in his office chair. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Rachel’s seriously trying to bury a lot of hatchets … and I know Finn’s invitation for you to be his best man still stands. He wanted me to ask you one last time to reconsider, before he asks Puck. Listen, kiddo. Come home for this. You don’t want any regrets.”

“A little late for that.” 

“Come on. Can I change you from a “declines with regret” to an “accepts with pleasure”?”

“Is there a third option?”

“Kurt. Life is too short for this. Please come. For me and Carole and Finn.”

Burt never played fair.

“I’ll be there."

~ * ~ * ~

The stage manager, recognizing Kurt from his blog, had escorted him personally to Rachel’s dressing room. Once there, he sat at her vanity, and waited for his former friend to take her curtain calls. He idly rearranged her makeup brushes and pencils, then started examining the photographs tucked into the corners of the mirror. One of Rachel and Finn, the day Finn had come home from the army, missing an eye and an arm, but still the same loving, gentle soul he had been in high school. Another of the night Rachel had proposed, down on one knee on the Jumbotron at a Tigers game, thrilling his brother. He looked at the two of them with his father and stepmother, his heart starting to constrict painfully. That should be me and Blaine, his heart whispered. And one last picture. Blaine, the night of the Freshman Mixer so many years ago, standing wild-haired and grinning, thrilled with the prospect of his first dance, running headlong into life in his heedless, fearless way. Blaine had explained once, in one of their drowsy conversations in the half-light of Blaine’s bedroom in the loft, that having lived through what he believed was the worst thing that could ever happen to him--twice--and survived, had made him unafraid of anything ever again. 

Kurt sighed. He missed Blaine’s full-on approach to life so much. But then again … maybe he had been right all along. Maybe if they’d been more cautious, more patient, more prudent, things wouldn’t have ended so horribly. He took down the picture and studied it a moment, considering, then put it back. 

Behind him, the door opened and Rachel came in, breathless from the applause of her audience, who always accepted and loved her, as well they should. “You were brilliant,” he said matter-of-factly, because it was a matter of fact. 

“Kurt. I - - I - -”

He looked her over coolly. “Congratulations on your engagement. I guess this makes us brother and sister-in-law to be.”

Rachel hesitated, clearly intimidated by his tone; and then blurted all in a rush, “Yes. Kurt, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, please let’s be friends again.”

They sat in silence. Kurt supposed that he was expected to offer an apology too, but he sat staring at her until she looked down a moment, then back up at him in her old appealing way, hands outstretched. “Kurt … you know I was thinking of Blaine- -”

“That’s bull. It was about you, not about him. Everything was always about you.”

Rachel blinked back tears. “I was alone, Kurt. I’d promised my dads I’d take care of him. I had nobody else I could trust. Can’t you try to understand what I felt like?”

“Can’t you try to understand what you did to us? To me?” he shouted. “You took something beautiful and you made it seem …” he choked. “Dirty. You made me feel dirty for loving him. And god only knows what that made him feel.”

“I know. But I didn’t understand that then. I - - I wouldn’t have called the police, not really. I just … I was angry. All I knew was that you’d lied to me, that … you weren’t the best friend I thought you were.”

“Why? Because I loved your brother? Because I fought it for months out of respect for you, for his age? Because I tried to protect you? That’s why I did it. Because I loved you, too. And you … you wouldn’t see that!” Kurt choked, overcome with emotion.

Rachel twisted the engagement ring on her finger, whispering through her own tears, “Maybe … maybe if you went to him, and talked - -”

“That’s like gluing together a broken vase and pretending you can’t see the seams,” Kurt said. “I can’t undo what … what I let you do to us. What I did.” His shoulders sagged and he put his head in his hands, crying. For the first time since that rainy August day, he made himself say it, feel it. “I let you make me break his heart, and mine. I should have had more faith in what we had,” he sobbed. “I should have fought for him …” He scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. “I … I know you suffered too, Rachel. I know you were a kid yourself, and you went through hell. It’s myself I’m really mad at. I’m done blaming you for my mistakes. I - I’m sorry too. More than you know.”

Rachel went to his side and put her arms around him. “Maybe you can still fight for him.” She tilted up his face and wiped his tears. 

“No.” Kurt shook his head and pulled her in for a hug, whispering against her cheek. “It’s too late now. I forgive you, Rachel … but I can’t forgive myself. Not ever. And I can’t expect Blaine to.” 

 

February 2020

Kurt arranged the filmy veil around Rachel’s face, affixing it with pearl-tipped pins. “You’re supposed to be Finn’s best man, not my maid of honor,” Rachel smiled at him in the mirror. “Shouldn’t you be with your brother?”

“I’m needed here more,” Kurt said, frowning. “Vera would never forgive me if I let you go out there with this veil any which way. And Puck is better suited for any last minute bro-talk, anyway. There. You’re perfect.”

“I … I’m so happy you’re here, Kurt. I’m so glad we’re friends again.” 

Kurt squeezed her shoulder as they looked at each other in the mirror. “Me too, Rachel.”

“The old loft gang, together again,” Santana said, from her perch on the vanity table. Rachel’s face fell, and Kurt quickly turned to pick up Rachel’s bouquet of hot-pink roses and hand it to her. There was one important person missing, and probably always would be. The only place any of them would see him now was on screen at the movie theater.

Of course, Kurt had agreed to come mainly because Blaine wouldn’t be here. He couldn’t bear to see him again. To see if he’d changed, which would break his heart. If he hadn’t, which would do the same. Surely Blaine had someone special by now, and he would have brought that someone with him. Seeing Blaine with someone else would pulverize the remaining pieces of his heart into a fine powder. 

Looking at Rachel’s pained face, though, he regretted his relief that Blaine wasn’t going to be here. Rachel deserved to have her whole family, what little of it there was left, with her today.

A tap came at the doorway, breaking the awkward moment, and Santana hurried to open it. Cooper was standing there, handsome as ever. 

“Here to give me away, big brother?” 

“Sure am, Peanut,” Cooper smiled. “But I also brought a little surprise with me … my plus one, here.” He put his arm out and drew someone into the doorway.

“Blainers!” Santana threw her arms around him. Rachel jumped up and rushed to hug her younger brother as well. Kurt shrank back into the corner, his heart pounding.

"Look at you," Blaine said, finally. "You look so beautiful."

“You came! I - - I didn’t think you would. I didn’t think you’d ever forgive me,” Rachel said, holding Blaine’s face in both her hands and smiling through her tears.

“I forgave you a long time ago … I just … I couldn’t admit it,” Blaine said. “But Finn called me last night and … well, he made me realize I needed to let go of all that and be here. I’m sorry, Rachel -- I’m sorry I stayed away so long. I love you.” 

They hugged tightly, and Kurt’s throat constricted as he watched. Blaine was even handsomer than ever, slightly more muscular but still trim and slender. Kurt gazed at Blaine unnoticed until the young man looked up and spotted Kurt for the first time over Rachel’s shoulder. Their eyes locked and Kurt felt the years drop away. He couldn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. He read Blaine’s eyes and his heart as easily as he ever had.

“You have to be in the wedding party,” Rachel squealed, hopping up and down and smiling up at Blaine. “I want you to stand up on stage next to me today. Please?” 

Blaine smothered a smile. "It's an altar, not a stage," he said fondly. 

Rachel dismissed him with a flick of her wrist. "Everywhere I go is a stage. And Finn's bride is my most important role. Please, Blaine, will you stand next to me today?"

“Oh, Rachel - I’m not dressed for it - I’ll ruin the whole look you’ve got going. I'll sit in the front row."

Kurt stepped forward holding his supply bag, his heart racing. “Actually, we’re all wearing simple single-breasted black tuxedos, just like you … I have an extra tie and set of jewelry for emergencies. You can … you can have them, and then you’ll fit right in.” 

Blaine smiled tentatively at Kurt and nodded, and Rachel squealed again in delight, squeezing his arm and letting go, to run over to the table and fix her eye makeup. “I told you to wear waterproof mascara, Berry,” Santana said, wiping her own eyes furtively.

Kurt rummaged in the bag and produced another of the hideous hot-pink bow ties that Rachel had imposed on all of them and held it up toward Blaine. Their eyes met again, this time amused, and they shared a smile over the gaudy accessory. Kurt’s heart skipped a beat, as we watched Blaine strip off the elegant, thin black tie he was wearing, remembering earlier times. Blaine took the new garish one from Kurt’s hand, their fingers brushing lightly. He watched Blaine slide the new tie under his collar and tie it deftly and perfectly. 

"It’s - - it’s a little crooked,” Kurt lied. He reached up and adjusted it one way and then back into place. “There,” he whispered. “Perfect.” 

“We have to hurry, though,” Rachel said, fussing with her skirt. “Santana, can you help me with this train? And Kurt, can you help Blaine before you go to stand with Finn?" She looked hopefully at the two of them as Santana adjusted the train behind her and Cooper looked on.

Kurt turned back to Blaine, who had already unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and removed the tasteful black button stud he had been wearing. Blaine put the stud in his pocket, but Kurt shook his head and held out his hand. “You’ll just lose those if you do that. And you’ll rattle,” he said, his voice suddenly a little hoarse. He handed the new stud to Blaine and took the old one, putting it in the box for him. Kurt realized was standing a little close … but Blaine didn’t move away as he rebuttoned the top button and they went through the same procedure for the three buttons below it. Then Blaine took off his cufflinks quickly and deposited them in the little box in Kurt’s hand. He managed the new cufflink on the left hand, but was fumbling with the one on his right, when Kurt set down the box, reached over and fastened it for him. 

“There. All done.” Kurt resisted the urge to smooth a hand over Blaine’s jacket. They looked into each other’s eyes again, and Blaine smiled the brilliant smile that had always made Kurt come undone. “Thanks, Kurt … See you at the altar?” 

“Yeah …” Kurt whispered, backing out of the room slowly as Quinn and Mercedes, in matching hot pink bridesmaids dresses, swept giggling into the room and shut the door in his face.

~ * ~ * ~ 

A few blurry minutes later, a still-dazed Kurt stood beside Finn at the altar and the wedding party began their procession down the aisle. First Sam and Mercedes. Then Puck and Quinn. Blaine came next, walking down the aisle with no partner, smiling easily at friends and family who reached out to clasp the hand of the prodigal brother as he walked by. Kurt didn’t look at anything or anybody else after that. 

The ceremony passed in a haze; all Kurt could see was Blaine standing across the altar from him. Puck had to nudge him when it was time for the wedding ring, and he blushed and handed it over, but returned to watching Blaine’s profile. At one point, when the judge pronounced the couple man and wife, Blaine finally shifted his gaze and found Kurt’s eyes on him. He smiled sadly, and Kurt dropped his eyes. 

When the party proceeded back down the aisle, a twinkling-eyed Santana gestured for Blaine to go ahead of her, and Kurt offered him his arm. After a fraction of a second, Blaine took it and they recessed down the aisle arm in arm, Kurt thrilling to Blaine's touch.

~ * ~

The reception was stuffy, crowded and too hot, but Blaine didn't care. He was slow dancing in Kurt's arms again. It was like every dream he'd dreamed since Kurt left him had come true. But he tried hard to contain his expectations, and not attach undue significance to Kurt's undivided attention, to the way Kurt was holding him so very tight, to the compliments and memories Kurt kept whispering in his ear. They were old friends and ex-lovers at a family wedding. He and Kurt were ... brothers-in-law now? Was that right? He wasn't sure what this wedding made him and Kurt, but he knew that the magic he was feeling with Kurt was temporary. It was reminiscing, it was closure, it might even lead to a hookup for old time sake. And then they would return to their lives three thousand miles apart. The magic would dissipate.

Even as wonderful as being with Kurt again felt, there were too many reminders that their love was in the past, that too much had changed. Kurt's body felt different ... Blaine was sure Kurt had grown both taller and broader-shouldered, and his face was now scratchy with five o'clock shadow, which had almost never happened back when they were together. Kurt must have changed fragrances, too, because he even smelled totally different. And of course Blaine had grown up and changed too. He wasn't the person Kurt knew and loved back then, not anymore. 

Blaine clutched Kurt closer as if it could bring back the years they'd lost.

Kurt pulled away slightly and looked deep in his eyes. Blaine couldn't look away. He shivered and suddenly realized that Kurt had somehow guided them onto the venue's open verandah.The frigid, starry sky was overhead and Kurt's beautiful pale face and misty, changeful gray-blue eyes were luminescent in the moonlight. The night was cold, bitterly so, but Kurt slid his arms around, sheltering and warming him, stroking strong, sure hands over Blaine’s back. Blaine hadn’t fully known just how cold he was, how lonely and empty, until just now when Kurt held him close and chased the chill away, Kurt’s warm cheek pressed against his. 

Then Kurt was kissing him, so much like the old days. The feel of Kurt’s mouth on his, the press of Kurt’s sweet, soft lips, was finally the same as he remembered, and Blaine melted into the kiss, parting his lips and whimpering. Kurt gasped against his mouth and the kiss turned hotter, more frenzied. Kurt was holding him so tightly, kissing him so deeply, and Blaine’s knees went weak. He cupped his trembling hands on either side of Kurt’s face, his fingertips gently tracing Kurt’s jawline, and closed his eyes in bliss.

Weak and overwhelmed, Blaine knew he should stop this. It was going to be much worse after feeling Kurt's strong arms around him again and letting Kurt kiss him like this. It had taken him years to move past Kurt, even incompletely, and this would only put him right back where he started, grieving and heartbroken.

But he didn't care. He would take what was offered tonight and deal with the heartache later. He kissed Kurt back with everything he had. And when Kurt's lips left his to travel down his neck, and he whispered for Blaine to come up to his hotel room and be with him, he couldn't say no. 

*******  
Blaine felt physically dizzy. The anticipation, the longing of four years was about to be satisfied, as he let Kurt lead him back into the reception. He saw Burt and Mercedes and Santana, and everyone else they knew, give them knowing, pleased looks as they wove their way through the crowd. He followed Kurt close behind, clutching his arm, afraid to make eye contact lest he get trapped talking to anyone else and destroying the moment, worried that Kurt might get distracted or even lose interest. Then … then he wouldn’t get to hold Kurt one last time, and that couldn’t happen. He hurried his steps and pulled Kurt along and out the door to the hotel lobby. He had to be with Kurt one more time, no matter what happened later. He had to.

Kurt pushed the “up” button on the elevator, smiling at him and showing all his teeth, a sign that he was truly happy and relaxed. Blaine loved it when Kurt let himself really smile like that. Kurt laughed when Blaine reached out and pressed the button again impatiently, looking up at the floor numbers as they blinked on in descending order, so slowly. “What’s your hurry? We have all the time in the world, sweetheart,” Kurt smiled.

Blaine leaned his head against Kurt’s shoulder, feeling subdued and pensive and suddenly a little sad. He wished that Kurt’s words were true, but if life had taught him anything, it was that time was the most precious and fleeting thing in the world. He kissed Kurt’s neck along the jawline softly. He intended to make the most of the little time he could have with Kurt tonight. 

“You okay? You look a little pale,” Kurt murmured, leaning his head against the top of Blaine’s and pressing a gentle kiss to Blaine’s temple. The door opened with a ping and Kurt stepped in, pushing the button for his floor. They … they were really going to do this. They were going to make love again, and probably have a whole night together. It was real. 

Blaine blinked back tears, his heart pounding so hard and fast, his hands trembling with desire to touch. He wouldn’t let himself hope for more than tonight, but as the door slid shut on just the two of him, he startled Kurt, and himself, by launching himself at Kurt and pressing him against the elevator wall, kissing him fiercely. “I’m fine,”he moaned. “I just want you so bad.…” he stopped talking and sucked on Kurt’s neck, mouthing at his ear, hands roaming all over Kurt’s shoulders and back everywhere he could reach, and Kurt chuckled.

“You’re so impatient,” Kurt gasped. “I am too, baby, but there’s security cameras in these things. Let’s save it for my room, okay?”

The door opened and Kurt took his hand, smiling happily, and they half-ran down the hallway. Blaine bounced up and down impatiently as Kurt opened the door to his room with his key card, then grabbed Blaine’s tie and dragged him by it into the hotel room. 

Once inside, in the dim hotel room, things changed again, slowed down as Kurt tenderly and lovingly undressed and worshipped him, taking care of him, apologizing and begging his forgiveness over and over again, and Blaine forgot to be afraid anymore, forgot to hold anything back. He loved Kurt as much as he ever had, and he told Kurt so breathlessly while Kurt made love to him. And he chose to believe Kurt when he said the same. For now. Because he needed to.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ 

Kurt stirred and blinked at the movement in the bed. He watched Blaine get up quietly and move about the darkened room gathering their scattered clothes, slipping on those that belonged to him and placing those that didn't carefully on the dresser. Blaine's face was only dimly visible, but looked sad and tired as he sat heavily in a chair beside the bed and started pulling on socks and shoes. Kurt clicked on the bedside lamp.

"Going somewhere?"

"Hey, didn't mean to wake you."

"I can see that. Were you going to sneak out, Blaine?" He hitched over in bed and sat on the edge. 

Blaine finished tying his shoes. "I have to go. Got a flight back to LA this morning, early. Gonna go take a quick shower in my room and pack up. Was going to stop by to say goodbye on the way out so you could get a little more sleep."

"No you weren’t. You were running out on me."

Blaine had a forced smile on his face as he stood up. "This was great, Kurt. Thank you. It was ... fun."

He grabbed his wallet from among the tissues and silver packets littering the nightstand, and his tuxedo jacket from the floor next to it. He put the wallet in the inside pocket and went to the mirror.

"Fun?" Kurt echoed. "That's all you're going to say it was?"

"C'mon Kurt. What else can it be with four years gone by, and 3,000 miles still between us? It was more than just fun, okay, but it's still just one night and that's all it can be. A ... nice way to say goodbye to the past. Let's not ruin it with a fight."

Kurt got up and helped Blaine into his jacket, ignoring his own nakedness. Watching Blaine in the mirror, he saw pain and mistrust hiding under a mask of cool indifference. Blaine had never hidden his feelings well. Not from Kurt. He brushed Blaine's jacket, an excuse to touch him again. 

"It's not just one night. It's been every night and every day since we fell in love. Cancel your flight."

Blaine’s face crumpled. "And then what?" He cried out, jerking away suddenly. “We pretend for another day that we’re back together?”

“We figure out what we’re going to do - - how we’re going to make this thing work between us. I still love you, and I know you love me. We can make it work somehow.”

Blaine shook his head adamantly. “No, we’re not going to go there.”

“Is there someone else?” Kurt whispered. “Is it serious -”

“There’s nobody else. But I live on the other side of the country. And I don’t want to hear any promises from you that’ll turn out to be just so much crap." Anger flashed in Blaine's gentle eyes. "You talk about me sneaking out of here? You’re the one who left, Kurt. You're the one who didn't keep your promises. And it's not the first time. You promised me you’d keep in touch when you moved to New York - you didn’t. You said you loved me and wanted to be with me, and then you deserted me. I - I didn't know where you were that summer, Kurt!" he cried. "I couldn't find you! I needed you and you weren't around, you weren't there for me. You never called me again. But you expect me to believe you’ll keep your promises now?” 

Kurt had retrieved his underwear from the lamp on the dresser while Blaine was talking, and tried to argue while pulling them up hurriedly. “Blaine, I’m sorry. I did what I thought was right at the time, and then I thought too much time had gone by --”

“Excuses. Forget it, Kurt. Let’s just … leave things like this." He leaned over and kissed Kurt's mouth quickly. "A little trip down memory lane, a beautiful goodbye to what we had.”

Blaine turned and was out the door in a few strides, and Kurt was left open-mouthed and staring at the hotel room door, absorbing the fact that he'd had true love back for a night only to lose it again. 

Hell no. Not this time.

Kurt flung open the door and raced down the hallway, catching an astonished Blaine by the arm. “No, Blaine. You’re not running away. You told me once that no matter what, when you love somebody, you should tell them how you feel, that you should live your life to the fullest all the time. No regrets. I realize now how right you were.”

“I didn’t know what I was talking about. I was just a kid, remember?” Blaine voice was pure ice. 

Before Kurt could respond, a family of three children and their parents came into the hallway, staring slack jawed at the two of them. 

Blaine casually stepped in front of Kurt to block their view, but the parents just glared at them and herded the children toward the elevator.

“I don’t know what their problem is. These briefs cost more than that hideous coat of hers,” Kurt muttered. 

“Then I hope they have a pocket somewhere with your key card in it.” Blaine's mouth twitched and a twinkle was lurking around his eyes. 

Kurt looked down at himself and then at the locked door to his room.

“Shit.”

Their blended laughter sounded like music to Kurt's ears. He'd missed harmonizing with Blaine so much. Laughing. Singing. Making love. Always in perfect harmony and rhythm, unlike with anyone else. The mishap seemed to have broken the tension, as Blaine was smiling at him again like the boy he remembered.

"C’mon, dummy. My room is down the hall, fortunately for you.” Blaine moved down a few more doors and swiped his key card. “I’ll let you borrow something to wear until you get a new card.”

“And can we talk?” Kurt asked hopefully. Blaine hesitated, but then smiled.

“Yeah. Let's ... talk.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The hotel had a complimentary breakfast buffet, and Blaine still was a breakfast lover, so after a shower, a quickie in Blaine’s untouched bed, and another shower together, Kurt found himself being led by the love of his life into the dining room downstairs. Wearing bright red highwaters in Blaine’s size, a black polo shirt and, because Blaine insisted the outfit required it even for a trip to the lobby for breakfast and a replacement room key, a striped bow tie. His feet were stretching out a pair of Blaine’s loafers. Blaine looked particularly pleased and smug, and Kurt quirked an eyebrow, then looked around. 

Most of the wedding guests were seated around the dining room, gaping openly at the two of them. Puck slapped Blaine on the back on the way past the hostess station, and whispered to Kurt, “Geddit, Hummel.”

“Well, I guess people can tell you’re wearing my clothes,” Blaine said innocently. 

“You think?” Kurt said, hiding a smile. 

“Are you embarrassed?” Blaine asked, leaning in and whispering seductively in Kurt’s ear. “They all know we made love last night.”

“Hey, Kiddo. Blaine,” Burt interrupted from behind them. Blaine jumped and then went pale.

“Hey Dad, Carol,” Kurt said, leaning on the hostess station and enjoying Blaine’s nervous breakdown.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hu- hu- hummel,” Blaine stammered. “You - you getting some … some breakfast?”

“Yeah, that’s generally what I eat at 8:00 in the morning. So Kurt, new look? Short pants?”

Kurt shrugged, smiling shyly, and Burt relented. 

“I’m glad you guys … ran into each other here. It’s been too long coming. So … you want to sit together?” Burt said, starting suddenly when Carol poked him and shook her head.

“Not this morning, Dad. I’m going to drop Blaine off at the airport and then I’ll see you at the after-wedding lunch you’re throwing. Then we can catch up some, okay? I’d just like to keep this guy to myself for a few more hours,” Kurt said, putting an arm around Blaine, and gazing into his eyes. Burt smiled and pressed Kurt’s arm, shook Blaine’s hand, and went on his way with Carol.

“Everyone can see us,” Blaine whispered, incredulity joy shining from his eyes. “All our friends, our family … we don’t have to hide this time. I’m … so happy.”

Kurt nodded, too happy to speak, and the two of them got on line at the buffet behind Mercedes and Sam, who smiled and nodded approvingly. Kurt wasn’t very hungry, but he took a few pieces of fruit and an English muffin, and once Blaine had gotten his food, inclined his head toward an out-of-the-way corner table. 

Sitting down, he reached a hand out to clasp Blaine’s for a second, still gazing lovingly at him. Picking up his coffee cup and inhaling the bracing scent, he watched Blaine pick up his knife and start putting jelly on some toast. “So … we have a lot to catch up on,” he remarked. “What’ve you been up to, besides getting cast in the biggest film of the year?”

Blaine looked down, toying with his toast. “Well, you know the beginning... I ran away from home. Managed to get myself across the country, even though I got robbed about twelve hours after I left.”

Kurt put down his cup and took Blaine’s hand again. “No … Blaine … why didn’t you call your sister or one of our friends? They would have gotten word to me. I would’ve driven anywhere to come get you.”

“I didn’t know that. Not then. That was why I ran away, I had to get away and start over someplace new.” Blaine took a nibble of toast. “That was a rough trip … I’ll tell you more about it someday. But it was okay once I got to Cooper’s, and we decided I’d stay there. I finished high school, but I never bothered with college. So … I guess you’re the educated one.”

“It’s a shame. You were such a great student.”laine shrugged. “I wanted to get on with it. Wanted to be a grown-up, I guess. Being a kid seemed to be a liability. I kept thinking if I made it as a big star, you’d be all impressed and … come to get me back.” He laughed, but it was forced and there was so much pain still in his eyes.

Kurt’s eyes stung. “I’m so sorry, Blaine.”

Blaine shook his head. “Don’t apologize anymore. We both made mistakes.” He paused. “And maybe we could move past it … if you want to try. We have time to talk a little about it after breakfast, before I leave for LA.”

Kurt smiled and squeezed Baine’s hand. “Deal.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Thanks for driving me to the airport, Kurt. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s no trouble. I’m glad to have at least this much time with you before you go back. It’s too bad you couldn’t get out of those promotional interviews for Young Elvis.” Kurt put his blinker on and turned to off onto the access road for the airport.

Blaine nodded, his heart sick and heavy, homesick again for Kurt already even though he hadn’t left yet. He had known it would be hard to say goodbye. He’d tried to sneak out the hotel room in part to avoid saying that hated word, and even the wonderful talk and passionate, joyful romp they’d shared at the hotel after breakfast, didn’t dull the pain of separation from Kurt quite enough.

“Don’t look so sad,” Kurt said, flashing a bright smile at Blaine. “This isn’t an ending. It’s just a beginning. We’re going to skype every day, and text every chance we get. And I’m coming to see you next month, remember?”

“I remember,” Blaine said softly. He looked down at his hands in his lap, willing himself to have faith that this time things would be different. This time, they would take it slow, they’d do everything the smart way. Things were really looking up and hopefully, this time they would make it work. They would put each other first, and they wouldn’t let anything or anyone come between them. He smiled tentatively at Kurt, as they pulled up to the sidewalk outside his loading gate. “Wish you didn’t have to rush off,” he admitted as Kurt put the car in park.

“You want me to come in and sit with you until it’s time?” Kurt asked. “I can park the car and - -”

“No, honey. It’s - - it’s okay. We’re loading any minute now and I’d rather say goodbye here, in private.”

“Not goodbye. We’re never saying goodbye to each other again.”

“See you later, then,” Blaine amended, leaning in for a spine-tingling “see you later” kiss. Tears nearly blinding him, he got out of the car and waved, surprised to see that Kurt seemed quite chipper as he pulled out of the parking spot with a jaunty wave and a screech of tires, apparently in a big hurry to get back to the after-wedding lunch with his family. Well, he supposed that was fair enough … Kurt didn’t get to Ohio often and he should enjoy his time here with the other people he cared about. Blaine picked up his overnight bag and trudged to the loading gate, where he presented his ticket and checked his bag, emotionally exhausted from the previous twenty-four hours of reunions and reconciliations and great sex and inevitable separations. 

Blaine boarded the plane, checking his boarding pass and heading down the aisle to his seat in first class. The plane was nearly empty, luckily. He probably was going to be ordering lots of cocktails and getting stinking drunk and crying a lot, and he preferred not to have an audience for his catharsis.

He sank down into the comfortable seat with a sigh, closing his eyes a minute and leaning back. He remembered Kurt’s goodbye kiss again, played it in his mind, and touched his lips softly with his fingertips where the feeling of Kurt’s lips still lingered, like ghost pain. Sitting up with a shake of his head, he pulled out his cellphone to call Kurt one last time before the attendants made them put away their phones. He had to hear Kurt’s voice one more time.

After three rings, Kurt’s beautiful voice answered. “Miss me already?”

Blaine turned toward the window, his eyes misting up. “I … I wish I’d called you years ago. I wish we hadn’t wasted so much time. I love you so much, Kurt,” he said. “I dreamed of you every night, and a lot of times when I was awake too. I don’t want to have to go back to dreaming … “

“So stop dreaming,” Kurt’s voice came from the phone, but also … from beside him. Blaine whirled his head and saw his Kurt, stuffing his carry-on into the overhead compartment with one hand, holding his cellphone in the other. “Surprise!”

“What - Kurt - - you’re - -” Blaine looked dumbly at the phone, then at Kurt. “You’re here!”

“Just bought a ticket. Gonna go with you to L.A. for a few weeks.” Kurt sat down next to Blaine and smiled tenderly at him. “Then, when you aren’t as busy with promotion, you’re coming back to New York for a while,” he said, leaning over and murmuring, “I’m never letting you go, not ever again. Not now that my dreams finally came true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to my beta Chazzam, and the artist who worked with me on this challenge for the Klaine Prompt Big Bang, Angel-or-Phantom, both on tumblr. 
> 
> If you liked the story and would like to see more from this AU verse, please comment ... I have lots of ideas for one-shots to fill in gaps in the story (Blaine's and Kurt's lives with the parents they lost; their romances with others when they couldn't be with the one they loved; Blaine's cross-country trip; and of course their lives together after this story). If enough people seem interested I'd love to add to this verse. Thanks for reading! -

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the Klaine Prompt Big Bang, Pinkgleek/Angel-or-phantom (for her amazing fanart), and the original prompter! And thank you again, Chazzam, for your inspiration, your own wonderful fics, and for all your work as beta for this project!


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